


Nocturnal Creature

by MONANIK



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Adventure & Romance, Alternate Universe - Creatures & Monsters, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood and Injury, Character Death, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, Hinata Shouyou & Kageyama Tobio Friendship, Hinata Shouyou & Kozume Kenma Friendship, Hinata Shouyou is Sunshine, Human Hinata Shouyou, Human/Monster Romance, Hunter Hinata Shouyou, I Don't Know When This is, If You Squint - Freeform, It's Not History-Accurate, M/M, Minor Sawamura Daichi/Sugawara Koushi, Monster Hunters, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, POV Hinata Shouyou, Protective Kageyama Tobio, Slow Build, Werewolf Hunters, Werewolf Kageyama Tobio, Werewolf Politics
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-11-02
Updated: 2020-03-23
Packaged: 2021-01-20 16:16:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,240
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21284558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MONANIK/pseuds/MONANIK
Summary: "There, on the ground by his feet, covered by the thick bushes, lay the biggest werewolf Shoyou had ever seen in his entire life. It was massive, stretched out to a baffling five or so meters in length and at least three to four in height. The werewolf was laying stretched out on its side, mouth agape, panting heavily. Six arrows poked out of its abdomen and Shoyou could tell by the blood and bruises on his gums that someone had tried to yank or break off one of his huge, sharp fangs. He wasn’t sure whether human blood was involved in the mixture or not but froze up all the same; could do nothing but stare at the wounded creature splayed out before him.Six arrows and this thing was nowhere near dead. Six poisonous arrows."Hinata is a young apprentice to an old nightchaser, Ukai, out one night on his first mission to hunt down a werewolf that's been terrorizing the village for quite some time.However, when he stumbles upon a tattered, beaten and dying werewolf he is immediately swept up by the  humanity he finds in its eyes and decides then and there to defy the first and foremost rule of being a nightchaser: never let a werewolf walk free.
Relationships: Hinata Shouyou/Kageyama Tobio
Comments: 61
Kudos: 258





	1. Hounds of Hell

**Author's Note:**

> Haha it looks like all those unfinished voltron fics will never get finished huh. So sorry voltron fans, I do intend to wrap up most of them eventually, but wiht the new Haikyuu season creeping closer I feel an irresistable itch to write for Kagehina for the first time in my life, and what better way to kick that off than with a werewolf fic? I won't give exact publishing dates, since I don't know how much time I'll have, but I will get this done. I'm too excited not to.
> 
> Any and all comments and kudos serve as fuel to the fire in my heart so please don't hesitate to voice your thoughts! 
> 
> Hope you enjoy this!  
Cheers!

He never imagined he’d be sitting in the round space of one of the nightchaser watchtowers, surrounded by men whose faces spoke of unthinkable horrors. All of them far older than him. His leg bouncing impatiently, nervously, was the only sound that filled the otherwise claustrophobic space. They were all sat waiting, facing each other, staring at the large floor-mat in the middle of the room.

It was a beautiful map, carved in white marble and dyed with the finest dies Miyagi had. A gorgeous construction serving as both a decoration and a stark reminder of their purpose—their roles as nightchasers.

To eradicate any and all werewolves daring enough to wander into Miyagi territory.

He was made painfully aware of the power those beasts—werewolves—held. Hounds of hell, they called them. Nocturnal beasts. Monsters. He shuddered at the mere thought of ever losing Natsu to those terrifying creatures. He wouldn’t let that happen. Couldn’t. Which was precisely why he was sat waiting to start his first real nightchase since graduating. Strangely enough, he’d been the first chaser in a long time as young as he was to earn himself his knife. He’d been to excited over the prospect of finally helping protect the village, and for once being able to provide for his family, that he hadn’t spent much time mulling over the hows and whys of his early graduation.

As the sun finally set over the horizon—visible through the large, floor to ceiling window on the left side of the tower—he took a deep, finalizing breath before he stood in time with the other nightchasers.

It would be OK. He would be OK. He had been training for this very moment for months now. Surely, he’d gotten good enough to kill a werewolf if he’d gone through the nightchaser graduation ceremony? They wouldn’t let a complete rookie out just like that, would they? Surely if he just stayed close to the others…

Except they’d already moved out of the room.

He tumbled after them, tripping on the way down the spiraling stairs and almost colliding with the last nightchaser of the squad. He _oofed _as he just barely avoided ramming his face straight into one of the supporting beams.

The nightchasers were all already way ahead of him, running up towards the thick forest ahead, sprinkled like ants over the moonlit grass-plane leading up the hill.

He hurried after, huffing as he tried to catch air into his lungs. Today was the first night after the full moon, which meant free range for nightchasers and greatly improved their success rates. Many, if not all werewolves were currently hiding away somewhere in the woods, recovering from their blood night raids; licking their wounds.

They were at their most vulnerable this time of the month. Perfect time for an attack.

Shoyou kept up as best he could. Luckily for him, despite their shortness, his legs served well in carrying him at full speed towards his goal. He was running towards the heart of the forest, route so familiar from his many weeks spent training on it that it felt like second nature. His legs moved all on their own, even in the pitch-black hour of the night. They weren’t allowed any light sources, since it would only serve as a beacon for the nocturnal beasts, which meant most of their training involved treading forest ground with their eyes bound tightly. They had to know how to find their way through the familiar terrain even if they were to lose both eyeballs. The heart of the Miyagi forest was the Den of Night, they called it, for it was the one place in the forest werewolves stayed clear of in fear of the nightchasers.

It was an easy route, and a perfect middle spot to begin their hunt. Marked by a single, massive, redwood tree perfectly centered, cleared of bushes and overgrowth. It’s large branches and thick leaves left little room for sun-or-moonlight to slip through, so the terrain below remained mostly clear except for the many large roots shooting up through the mud like gigantic worms.

All nightchasers had already dispersed, each going their own way, and Shoyou found himself at a roadblock. What was he to do now? Ukai-sensei had told him I’d be best for him to remain close to one or more of the experienced nightchasers, but he’d already lost sight of all of them. Besides, he couldn’t tell one from the other even if he wanted to, not with the all-consuming darkness around him.

He felt around his waist for the sheath of his knife and reached further back to feel the bag of arrows and his bow and made sure they were securely fastened. Everything seemed to be in place. All he had to do was find a werewolf and kill it. He could do it. What’s the worst that could happen?

_He ignored the voice in his head that vividly supplied him with the various rather informative images he’d presented with on his first day of training. The mauled, broken leftovers of human corpses._

With finality in each step forward, he began his march through the thick woods ahead, aiming for a straight-ahead route. He figured it would be his safest bet, since his spatial awareness wasn’t particularly up to par with the other chasers in his squad.

He gulped. An itch coursed through his skin anytime a branch cracked, or an owl hooted loudly and melodically from the depths of the forest. Each one of his footsteps felt far too loud to his own ears. He knew werewolves had a heightened sense of hearing, as well as smell and sight.

If nightchasers kept a low profile their dark and tattered rags provided camouflage between the many bushes around, and the special perfume all nightchasers used provided them with scent-protection. It was an expensive perfume, made for nightchasing, and consisted of a relatively common wood-flower found around this region. It had a strong smell to it, sickeningly sweet, and helped to mask the smell of human.

He gulped yet again as another branch broke beneath the soles of his shoes. Surely, that one had been too loud? He was certain something would jump him any time now, straight out of the dense darkness, but nothing happened. The forest stayed quiet. Not even the owl was hooting any longer. The only sound heard through the fog of terror that fell atop the forest was the heavy pulse rushing in Shoyou’s ears. His senses were all on high alert.

As were the werewolves’.

If there was one thing humans hadn’t managed to fully protect themselves from, it was the werewolves’ immaculate hearing. If you thought dogs were impressive, they were nothing compared to these nocturnal hellhounds. Which was precisely why one of the biggest rules of nightchasing was to always remain on the tips of your toes. Never breathe more than you have to. Lower your pulse. Ignore every branch and twig and make not a single sound for everything, _absolutely everything and anything, _could give you away.

Lucky Shoyou who checked off that list exceptionally; every step he took he felt landed on a dry twig or branch. Even the sound of his feet walking on newly fallen leaves sounded far too loud to him.

He kept on his loud trek, ignoring the erratic beating of his heart as best as he could, and continued on his route—growing more confident as minutes passed and no werewolf came out to jump him and skin him alive.

Eventually, however, he came to a halt in between two large redwood trees.

Standing there, stiff as a rock, he focused all senses to the low sound coming from somewhere inside the thick of the forest to his right. It was low, so low, and made the ground beneath his feet vibrate in steady beats, shifting between sounding and then not.

Sound. Pause. Sound. Pause.

It was the strangest sound Shoyou had ever heard. Nothing in the Hunter’s Handbook, or during his training, had ever mentioned something like this. Was it a wounded animal? Something foreign to humans? A monster? A sick boar or something?

He was well familiar with most sounds werewolves made. He’d been brought to the arena where the battle hounds were being trained many times through his training, both to face werewolves in close proximity but also to study their movements, sounds and appearances. He’d seen many, heard many, touched none, but nothing, _nothing, _had prepared him for what he saw when he pushed aside the large bush blocking his path.

There, on the ground by his feet, covered by the thick bushes, lay the biggest werewolf Shoyou had ever seen in his entire life.

It was _massive, _stretched out to a baffling five or so meters in length and at least three to four in height. It’s fur, a coal-black, thick coat which glistened so beautifully in shades of red and blue beneath the glimmer of moonlight that slipped through from above.

The werewolf was laying stretched out on its side, mouth agape, panting heavily. Six arrows poked out of its abdomen and Shoyou could tell by the blood and bruises on his gums that someone had tried to yank or break off one of his huge, sharp fangs. He wasn’t sure whether human blood was involved in the mixture or not but froze up all the same; could do nothing but stare at the wounded creature splayed out before him.

_Six arrows and this thing was nowhere near dead. Six poisonous arrows. _

He gaped openly at the display, hands so cold and unsteady he didn’t dare to so much as budge them, much less attempt to grab one of his weapons and attack the vulnerable werewolf at his feet.

The strange, vibrating sound came back, and Shoyou quickly understood why it had been so weird to him; he’d head it before. Many times. It was the death-whimper, as nightchasers called it. A vibrating sound, almost like a growl, that dying werewolves let out right before passing in a last attempt at getting help. Shoyou always thought it sounded more like pained purring.

The reason this one had sounded so strange to Shoyou must have had something to do with the sheer size of the thing. The frequency which was otherwise much higher in pitch was unnaturally low.

The insight made something in Shoyou reanimate itself, and he felt the blood return to his fingertips.

_This one was badly injured, on the brink of death. What better opportunity to deal the final blow than now?_

He took a steadying breath, unlatched his knife from the holder at his hip, and slowly, slowly made his way towards the quivering creature. It made no move to attack or flee, merely laid there, unmoving, breathing heavily.

However, as Shoyou came close enough to finally strike the final blow, the werewolf slowly opened his eyes and looked right at him. For a moment, his world slowed, and the forest around them died out. The striking blue was unlike anything he’d ever seen before, vibrant and strong and so, so _intelligent. _

He’d never even considered the consciousness of these creatures, always having only seen them as nothing but mindless killers sent from the depths of hell, set out to destroy his life and all that’s good. But then and there, staring into two hopeful, almost pleading eyes he realized with the dread of defeat heavy on his shoulders that he couldn’t kill something so aware of its existence. He couldn’t kill something with so much humanity in its eyes.

Slowly, stiffly, he lowered the hands gripping the sheath of the knife and fell to a kneel in front of the wounded beast. The fear in his heart returned full force, knocking the wind out of him, but this time it wasn’t the werewolf he feared; it was himself.

How many like this one had they killed? How many just tonight?

It stung terribly behind his eyelids, and he realized that he was crying his eyes out.

_I’m sorry mom, dad, Natsu, everyone but I just can’t do it. _

“Hey…” he sniffed, voice a broken whisper in the quiet of the night, drowned out by the heavy panting of the poor thing in front of him, “Hey, buddy…” he tried again, running gentle, hesitant fingers through the thick, black fur. The werewolf didn’t budge. He couldn’t tell whether that was because it knew Shoyou wouldn’t kill it, or because it simply didn’t have the strength to resist anymore.

“I’m so sorry,” he heard himself whisper, sobbing quietly as he started looking through the dense fur, panic seeping into his pores, “I’m so sorry! I promise I’ll help you!” he told the creature that no doubt understood every word spoken to it.

He realized that now. Understood why werewolves were chosen as battle hounds. It was never just about their size and strength and speed. He knew that now.

He still hated himself for what he was about to do.

With a clench of his jaw he grabbed ahold of the first arrow and pulled it out in one swift move. The werewolf whimpered in pain but couldn’t do more than twitch its head. Hinata willed his heartbeat to calm again, certainly spooked by the sudden movement of the massive beast. He took another breath, grabbed a second arrow, twisted, then pulled. Fast and precise.

He’d learnt how to pull out the hunter arrows all nightchasers were provided with, since they were unlike regular ones and had to be reused because the production was a hassle, and costly at that. The hunter arrows had a needle-like tip, usually hollow and filled with a toxin so potent it meant instant death to any and all humans. Werewolves, however, took longer to go down. It was made that way on purpose; to make them suffer and stagger before giving out and whimpering weakly into a painful, cold death.

It was called strychnine, Shoyou remembered, and in the Hunter’s Handbook it said that a particularly nasty variation was used in the hunter arrows. The toxin was as inhumane as you could get with a poison. Symptoms included apprehension, nervousness and eventually death by respiratory arrest—to name a few.

In other words, this intelligent creature splayed out before him had taken not one dose but six. The fact that it was still alive was a mystery to Shoyou, and he was certain the hunter who’d tried to take it down would report his shocking findings to Ukai the second he returned from the hunt. Shoyou had no doubt the werewolf would be whispered about all over town come tomorrow morning. Perhaps it’d even be in the daily news.

He twisted and pulled the last arrow out of its abdomen, watching as dark, thick blood exited the wound and pooled by the creature’s belly. 

_Curse humans and their cruelty. _

But Shoyou couldn’t tell any signs of the toxin having taken full effect, aside from the obvious respiratory problems, the drooling and the muscle spasms. Upon further inspection he noted that the hound was cold to the touch, perhaps from a circulatory problem caused by the toxin, and that its muscles were stiff as stone.

“I’m so sorry…” he whispered once more, felt heat roll down his cheeks and his cold lip wobble. The creature before him moved its head the smallest bit towards him and gazed at him with such understanding that the mere idea of this beast dying sent pain coursing through his heart. No. He couldn’t let it happen.

He rummaged through his emergency backpack and threw aside the many spare clothes, ropes and tools atop the little medical kit at the bottom. He pulled it out, shakily, and opened it up to find the antidote. It was carried around by all nightchasers in case of emergency, like being hit or stabbing yourself (foolishly) on your own or another nightchaser’s arrow. It was made for and by humans. Shoyou knew that, and yet he couldn’t leave this creature to rot. He had to do something to help. Anything to save its life.

Shakily he prepared the needle and aimed it for a soft spot at the beast’s neck, hand so shaky he feared his treatment would do more damage than good.

As his fingers gently injected the dying creature with the antidote acid, he spoke gently to it words of encouragement.

“It’s gonna be OK, buddy… don’t you worry, OK? I’ll help you…” he whispered, paranoid to be found by one of the nightchasers.

Perhaps they’d already discovered him. Perhaps one of them had already told headquarters about Shoyou’s crime. Because it was a crime, turncoating, and he was certain that if the others hadn’t given him away his lack of antidote and—consequently, injury or health hazard—certainly would.

He sighed as he packed his backpack again, not daring to anaesthetize the poor creature in fear of using even more of the expensive kit. He could only pray that the antidote would be enough, and that the chloroform wouldn’t be needed. The beast seemed calm enough, on the brink of sleep.

Or death…

“I’m so sorry you had to go through this,” he whispered once more and watched something fade in the eyes of the werewolf. The forest was slowly getting brighter by the minute, sun still far from rising but getting there, and Shoyou knew he had to leave.

He had an idea, suddenly, and threw open his backpack yet again.

The werewolf watched him curiously, so still where he laid breathing on the cold ground, as Shoyou emptied the contents of the medical kit to find the used needle. This was his only chance at keeping cover, in case he’d managed to remain hidden from other nightchasers. He jerked his hand back and threw the empty needle into one of the bushes behind the werewolf, not caring to look where it landed. He grabbed his discarded knife, held it tight in his right hand, mourned the loss of his poor backpack before he even stabbed the frail material—leaving a large opening. He tore at it with his fingers to make it seem less deliberate before collecting all his discarded things haphazardly and standing wobbly, arms full.

He looked down at the poor creature, at the question in its eyes. “Stay right here, OK?” he commanded, “Don’t move! I’ll come back come evening to check up on you, OK? I’ll bring food!” he said, staggering backwards through the bushes and trees of the forest, “I promise I’ll be back!” he said before turning.

Somewhere along the way he purposefully dropped his belongings and continued onwards, back towards the watchtower where the rest of the nightchasers gathered in the sunrise.


	2. Hinata Shoyou the Folk Hero

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Hinata is surprised to discovering something new and his world is turned upside down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nearly 7K words in this one. Awe, yeah baby. This fic is gonna be enormous!  
Are yall ready for another 30 chapters of this? 
> 
> (I'm not actually certain of the chapter count yet, that was an exaggeration)  
((maybe))
> 
> EDIT:  
I’m a fucking idiot. Fixed a tiny plot hole that my eyes just skimmed over the six time I re-read the thing.  
Was nothing big but it bugged me to hell and back.

The sun had already started its ascent over the horizon by the time Shoyou approached the tall watchtower of the nightchasers. His squad stood just outside its southern side, by the heavy wooden door. Some of them hadn’t returned, he grimly noted. Some were laying on the ground, being tended to by the town’s doctor. Some looked worse for wear.

He spotted Kindaichi amongst the crowd of people, flailing around with his right arm as he spoke rather aggressively to master Ukai Ikkei. From where Shoyou stood, he could see the bloody bandages wrapped tightly around his left hand.

“No! You don’t understand, master! It was massive! I tried to end it, I really did, but the thing wouldn’t go down! _Six arrows_ is what it took to make it _stagger!”_ he exclaimed loudly, face a furious red, “Damned thing bit off my fingers for crying out loud!” he continued.

Shoyou was certain the vein in his forehead would burst any second if he didn’t calm down.

He knew what Kindaichi was talking about; had gotten far too close to comfort to be able to dismiss him as a bad liar. He was talking about the fallen beast. The black, massive werewolf Shoyou had _oh-so-gently _cared for.

What an idiot he was, truly. He’d even told it to stay where it was as if the thing could listen—_would _listen.

“Just admit you let the damned hound go and move on with yer life,” Ikkei spat, shoving his way past the still flailing Kindaichi. His high ranking and lost fingers were the only concrete support Kindaichi had facing master Ikkei with those claims. How bold. For all they knew, he could have chopped them off himself to cover his ass as much as he could from the wave of dishonor that would undoubtedly befall him once it was time for morning regroup by the tower. It had been done before. Shoyou had heard of even more drastic measures than lost fingers. Sadly, his reputation and mangled hand couldn’t save him from the loud snickering around him.

“How many were lost? Do we have a body count?” master Ikkei asked, question aimed at his grandson, Ukai Keishin, who stood waiting for the doctor’s final words.

“Four. Two have yet to return,” he grumbled before spotting Shoyou, “Ah!” he yelled, startling old Ikkei, “There you are, Hinata! Why are you lurking around?!”

He stomped towards Shoyou, clearly agitated, and fixated him with one of his signature glares, “Well? Did you get any?” he asked once he’d gotten close enough, master Ikkei coming up behind him.

“No, sir,” he started, voice a wavering mess, “I—”

“Son, what happened to your backpack?” master Ikkei spoke up, shoving aside his grandson rather aggressively who complained in kind. Suddenly, the eyes of all the nightchasers around them turned their way.

“I, uh, got it caught on something as I was running. Came a little too close for comfort to one of the werewolves. Saw its fur and fangs and all but I… freaked out. Sorry,” He said, putting on a façade of innocence which usually came rather naturally to him. Being short and soft around the edges had its advantages every once in a while.

And, besides, it hadn’t been a complete lie. He just hoped it would hold up.

“I think I lost my things somewhere along the way. They must have fallen out without me noticing,” he said and bowed in silent apology, “I could go back out today after regroup and look for it, sir?”

Most nightchasers had lost interest the moment they’d heard Shoyou’s explanation—being well familiar with the silly, redhead rookie—but the two squadleaders in front of him appeared almost skeptical for a second until Keishin let out a loud snort.

“Of course you would…” he muttered and crossed his arms, “Alright,” he said, “Go back later and see what you can find. Don’t be such an airhead next time, ya hear? We ain’t got all the resources in the world, boy.” And with that he was dismissed with a wave of Keishin’s hand.

Master Ikkei remained by his side and watched his grandson return to his task of counting and regrouping the squad.

“Didn’t go so well now, did it, Shrimpy?” he asked. Shoyou tried not to visibly bristle at the stupid nickname, but something must have given him away because master Ikkei laughed heartily and slapped his back. He coughed.

“That’s alright!” he chortled, “Don’t you worry. Another hunt or two and you’ll be on par with my nephews!” he laughed and turned to walk away, but not before slapping him twice more for effect. Shoyou watched him leave and heaved a sigh of relief as he disappeared into the crowd of nightchasers breathing in the sunrise.

“What took you so long?” a voice asked from behind.

He startled and turned swiftly. Behind him, with his hands on his hips, stood Suga-san.

“S-sorry! I got a little lost!” he yelped.

“Hmm…”

“It’s true!”

“No, I believe you,” Suga-san grinned, ruffling his hair, “Just that I feel like you’ve just dug yourself an early grave with that story of yours, is all,” he said.

Shoyou blanched.

“What?” he asked.

“Well,” Suga-san started but lowered his voice to a whisper, eyes flicking back and forth above Shoyou’s head as if checking for eavesdroppers, “We’ll talk later, OK?” he finally settled for instead, hesitant to say too much despite the crowd seeming preoccupied with showing off their hunted werewolf teeth to each other boastfully. ‘Who had the bigger’, and all that junk.

“What do you mean? Talk about what?” he asked and watched as the warm hues of the early morning sun dyed Suga-san’s otherwise unusual, white locks a deep orange. Even his skin, as pale as it was, appeared to have bled into the sunrise.

“He saw you,” Suga-san whispered, “Tending to the wounded werewolf.”

And with that he smiled brightly and said; “I’ll come visit you later! Mother asked me to lend Mrs. Hinata some of our sugar!” and left.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

By the time Suga-san came over, the sun was already drooping low in the sky, readying itself for its descent over the horizon. Their little cabin on the outskirts of town had already started getting colder and colder by the day. Fall was approaching them fast, and so Shoyou had been tasked with cutting wood outside before the sun would set. Every swing felt more impatient than the last. He’d already packed the necessities for the evening when he would yet again—_maybe—_face the massive beast.

He couldn’t trust it. _Wouldn’t _trust it. So, he’d made sure to sharpen his blade and pack a few regular arrows, as well as bring his trusty old bow; the brown one his father had made him when he was still a young boy.

“Hey! Hinata!” Suga-san yelled, waving with his free hand. His smile stretched broadly across delicate features and made the mark beneath his eyes crinkle ever so lightly with the movement.

He’d always considered Suga-san a close friend. He was gentle, and caring, and exerted such an intense motherly spirit that even Shoyou felt needy for his attention and doting. His soft features and gentle voice were additions few of the medical staff of Miyagi could simply ignore, so he usually followed Doctor Washijo wherever he went. Which meant Suga-san had grown accustomed to calming erratic hunters post-hunt, as well as the many gruesome injuries that came with the duty.

He was fun to talk to, as well. Always had crazy stories to tell about drowsy, drugged hunters slurring pretty compliments his way and dubbing him _The Angel of Miyagi, _which had become his staple among the people downtown as well as among nightchasers. Shoyou was aware of the fact that many of the guys in his squad were jealous of his position with the pretty doctor’s apprentice, but he didn’t see Suga-san that way. To him, he was nothing short of a doting, motherly friend and a very good caretaker; but to see him as anything more than that he simply couldn’t.

Besides, it wasn’t like Shoyou swung that way anyways.

“I got some freshly picked plums, too,” he grinned at Shoyou and handed him a particularly juicy looking one.

“Thanks,” he sighed, smiling, and wiped a sweaty brow with the back of his hand.

His shoulders popped loudly when he stretched. As did the knots in his back.

“Sounds healthy,” his friend mused, mouth full of fresh plum.

“Didn’t you have sugar for mom?” he asked, ignoring the comment.

“Well, yes,” Suga-san said, glancing towards the little bowl by his side where he was sitting at their back porch, “But I wanna talk to you first,” he said, “Since I know you’ll be gone by the time I’m out here again.”

Shoyou stopped his chewing and glanced guiltily at Suga-san who seemed so bright beneath the afternoon sun. Suga-san was smiling gently, looking straight ahead at the fenced-off land and the forest down ahead, in the distance.

“I know you’re going back to that werewolf, wherever you left it, and I know that nothing I say will stop you, but could you at least tell me why?” he asked.

Shoyou merely stood and stared at him, baffled once more by the fact that Suga-san new everything.

“How do you—”

“Daichi spotted you crouched over that creature. He told me he thought you’d killed it at first but nearly had a heart attack when he saw that the thing was still breathing,” Suga-san confessed.

Suga-san and Daichi-san were childhood friends, as far as Shoyou knew, and were incredibly close. Some argued a little _too close,_ and all Shoyu could testify on was that they certainly knew how to get cozy with each other, but other than that he didn’t think their relationship went beyond that of good friends. Much to Suga-san’s constant dismay, which he was explicitly verbal about to Shoyou.

Daichi was a sworn hunter for the nightchasers. Had a good handful of kills hanging around his neck in the shape of glistening, white fangs. It was custom for nightchasers to pull out the largest fang of the werewolf they’d killed and hang it around their neck. That way you could tell who did a good job of actually protecting the people of Miyagi, and who did it just for the cash and the empty label of ‘folk hero’.

The fact that Daichi-san had spotted him reeked of danger to Shoyou. If _he_ had, who else had?

“Sorry,” he muttered.

Suga san ignored it and kept on smiling, shrugging a shoulder in silent answer, as if to say, _‘It alright’._

“Anyways,” he continued, voice a gentle stream, “I wanna know why you did it, I suppose. Aren’t you supposed to be protecting this village from those things, Hinata?” he asked, “Why did you _help _it? Why are you so eager to go back to it? Why did you lie to master Ukai for it?”

His words certainly stung. Like an angry wasp they buzzed around in the cavity of his heart, stinging left and right every time a new accusation left the other’s lips. To disappoint Suga-san and Daichi-san was a grave sin in Shoyou’s book. They were the kindest people he’d ever met, and, consequently, meant a lot to him as friends and superiors.

“I don’t know…” he answered truthfully, voice strained from the tightness in his throat, “But Suga-san, you have to believe me when I tell you that those…” he hesitated, “Creatures…are more intelligent than we think!”

“Why do you say that? Have you seen those things in action, Hinata? The things they do?”

He bristled, “But _why _do they do it? Has no one ever asked themselves that?”

Suga-san’s hushing-motion reminded him of where they were, and what they were talking about. He lowered his voice and squatted down to look Suga-san in the eyes.

“I was about to end its life, I really was. I held my knife above its chest and was about to stab it, but it opened its eyes, Suga-san! It looked straight at me and I could tell it was pleading with me not to kill it! It was _so aware_, and I just_—" _he stopped mid-sentence as Suga-san’s warm arms embraced him

“Shh,” he hushed in his hair, “I get it. Stop yelling.”

“I’m not yelling!”

“Fine. Stop _crying like a baby_, then.”

“I-I’m not crying, either!”

Suga-san chuckled and leaned back to look him in the eyes.

“I don’t know why you would let one of those things go, much less why you would help one, but whatever the reason I’m sure it’s valid. I trust your judgement, Hinata. You’re the brightest person I know. Just don’t let it blindside you to reality, OK?” he finished, and gave him a peck on the cheek.

Shoyou flushed bright red, but Suga-san had already turned and picked up the sugar holder. With a hand on the doorknob he turned to Shoyou.

“Be careful, OK?” he said.

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Miyagi forest, where the werewolves were most active at night, stood eerily quiet in crimson colors drawn by the setting sun. Shoyou still had an hour or so before sunset and planned on using that time well. He wasted no time looking for the place behind the bushes, by the two redwood trees, where he’d last left the dying beast. His backpack thumped heavily against sore muscles, filled to the brim with meat. It hadn’t been easy to smuggle it out, but he had managed somehow. He was certain his mother would ask questions eventually, once she found the pantry almost empty, but excuses he would think up later. There was no time to dwell on such things as he rushed through a darkening forest.

Eventually, the two familiar redwood trees arched towards one another came into view, and Shoyou was struck with a rather unpleasant sense of Deja vu as his knees weakened and his fingertips went numb.

He turned right, past the large bush, and froze.

The mighty beast was nowhere to be seen. On the ground beneath Shoyou’s feet remained a puddle of dried blood, a fine temptation for flies of all kinds as they whizzed around it.

Shoyou’s hands worked on instinct alone. In a matter of seconds, he’d grabbed his knife and slammed his back against a nearby tree. There he stood on quivering legs, waiting. He’d never fought a werewolf head on before, much less one _that large. _

He cursed himself and his soft heart where he stood, paralyzed. An idiot. A complete moron, that’s what he was. Why did he ever think a beast known for murdering humans left and right with no remorse would ever hold up to a human level of consciousness, or care about the person who saved its life in the least. _About anyone, really. _

How naïve of him.

And now he would die.

He would, and that was certain, for as much as he hated to admit it Shoyou was a total noob when it came to hunting werewolves_. _

A noise to his left snapped him out of his spiraling thoughts and back into his paralyzed body. His heart beat so erratically he felt like it would attract all other werewolves around. That is, if any other dared to come close to what was certainly lurking around in Shoyou’s peripheral…

A bush moved. Some leaves fell. Two quiet footsteps sounded.

Then nothing.

Complete, absolute, silence.

Not even the owl hooted, and the wind died—and with it Shoyou’s every thought quieted into blissful nothing. Like the breath before the leap off a cliff; tension hung in the air. He could almost see the string drawn taught between him and his inevitable, painful death.

But nothing came.

Another minute of maddening silence passed. Still nothing jumped out at him.

Then, a voice;

“Who are you?”

It sounded human. Shoyou took a shaky breath, eyes so wide they stung.

“H-Hinata Shoyou,” he whispered, “Who are _you?_ You shouldn’t be out here. It’s dangerous—”

A sunbeam moved just in time to reveal the lower half of a man’s body standing behind a large tree and some thick bushes. He was dressed in tattered, high pants tied with rope at the hips. Aside from that, he remained mostly nude. His chest—an even, tan surface that melted nicely with the crimson rays—shone with sweat and mud. His face Shoyou couldn’t see; for it was hidden in darkness. All he could make out was tousled, straight black hair and piercing eyes.

“Dangerous?” the man asked, “What’s dangerous? I believe you and your friends are the most dangerous things to pass through this forest,” he said, voice icy and even and drenched in hatred.

“What are you talking about? I-I’m a nightchaser; I protect—”

He scoffed, “Protect?”

Shoyou watched him as he walked further to the right; successfully hiding himself entirely from Shoyou’s straining eyes. The sunrays moved further, and the forest grew darker.

“All you lot do is cause destruction and death wherever you go,” he spat.

He couldn’t see him anymore but could tell his voice was changing. Growing gruffer and more distorted as seconds ticked by. He moved as quietly as the dead. The only reason Shoyou knew he was still around was because he kept speaking to him.

“Now, tell me, Hinata Shoyou—the nightchaser and folk hero,” he said, just to Shoyou’s right, in a mocking tone, “If you’re such a _savior_, why’d you let a werewolf free? Helped it, even,” he asked.

Shoyou blanched. _He knew? How?_ Was he a nightchaser? Someone from the village who’d happened to be passing by last night, maybe? But why would a random citizen be strolling the Hound Forest of Miyagi so late at night knowing it’s notorious for its werewolf population? It didn’t make any sense.

He settled for playing the ignorant card.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he stuttered.

This time, the voice came from far to his left. Groggier and deeper than before.

“Don’t fuck with me,” it barked, “Is it some new ploy you demons use to ward us off? Some sick powerplay? How sadistic are you shitheads?” he growled, voice now sounding from one place and the other, as if he were pacing back and forth impatiently. Growing more agitated—more furious. Like water boiling over.

The last of the sun set below the horizon, and the forest was doused in darkness in a matter of seconds.

“First you shoot, then you watch us die, and then you yank our teeth out and wear them as some sort of sick trophies?”

Shoyou could hear his voice rise in volume—getting harder and harder to comprehend—and the danger laced in every word he spat Shoyou’s way; like venom on his tongue.

And yet his mind was stuck on a loop around a single word; “_Us?_”

“Yes, us,” the man answered.

“You mean—”

But before he could so much as take another break, a loud shout pierced the otherwise deathly silent forest, and a cracking noise so disturbing it made bile rise in Shoyou’s throat followed; mingled with groans and huffs and howls of pain.

From the shadows of the thick trees, in the light of the new moon, staggered a shape blacker than ink straight towards a petrified Shoyou. Every hair on his body stood taught as a needle, and the frightening sight before him sent violent shivers up his spine; like claws over his skin. The meat in his backpack felt heavy on his shoulders. It reeked of coagulated blood and raw meat turning bad.

“Y-you’re…” he started as he watched the massive werewolf come closer and closer on unsteady legs. Still as quiet as the night. It’s eyes—the familiar, piercing blue—watched Shoyou’s every twitch and move as if waiting for an opportunity to pounce. As if the most miniscule hint of an attempt at flight or fight would send him flying Shoyou’s way.

Then, he growled.

The noise; loud and sparkling like static electricity—vibrated against his lungs and bounced between his eardrums painfully. He stood face to face with stark white fangs, gleaming in the moonlight. At full height the werewolf loomed above Shoyou. Even with his head and posture lowered into a defensive stance he stood above him. Big and frightening and so incredibly deadly.

If Shoyou hadn’t pissed himself before, now would be the time to do so. Perhaps if he made the werewolf laugh at him, he’d leave him alone for long enough so he could run with his tail between his legs.

But even then, who’s to say he wouldn’t follow? With legs and long and strong as those Shoyou had no doubt the massive beast would catch up to him before he would have the time to take so much as a step.

He was simply put doomed.

The werewolf had stopped talking. Shoyou assumed he couldn’t when transformed. _Transformed. _It would have been nice if someone had warned him beforehand of the werewolves’ _transformation-abilities. _

Then again, Shoyou was certain the Hunter’s Handbook said nothing about this piece of crucial information.

Was this werewolf special somehow? Or did they all have this ability? And if so…

_Did that make the nightchasers murderers? _

The man that had stood before Shoyou prior was no doubt human, or human-_like _at the very least. What’s more, he even spoke their language, acted like humans and had _incredibly_ strong feelings. 

_He had been the personification of the humanity he’d glimpsed yesterday. _The intelligence, the awareness—it had all been real. Right there. His gut had been right about it all along.

And yet now he would get brutally mauled for his foolishness.

_He should have killed it—_

No. _Him. _He should have killed _him,_ but he knew before he’d even thought the thought that Shoyou could never do such a thing. Not to someone or something so aware and so emotional. Not with something or someone that could plead for its life in a language he understood. In manners he understood. With reason he understood.

So, in a moment of the kind of bravery that came when faced with an untimely, unavoidable death—he reached his hand out slowly. Painfully slowly. All the while his mind supplied him with gruesome imagery of Kindaichi’s missing fingers. Of mauled corpses and misshapen limbs and cuts so deep they flaunted bone and—

And his hand met warm, soft fur.

He opened his eyes slowly. They stung terribly, and he felt the reason why cooling in streaks over his face.

Bright, brown eyes met striking blue as he whispered; “I’m sorry.”

He knew he was parroting himself, and yet he had no clue what else to say to the emotive creature.

“I’m sorry for everything… We had no idea—_I _had no idea. If I’d known…I would have never joined the nightchasers…” he broke off into a sob as the fangs slowly disappeared and the tense muscles in the werewolf’s back softened.

“I would have never… I didn’t know…! Please don’t kill me…!” he huffed and squeezed his eyes shut when he felt the werewolf move its head away from Shoyou’s hand.

When nothing happened, and the sound of loud sniffing filled his ears, he opened them again to be met with a curious werewolf approximately three times his size nosing at the backpack Shoyou carried like the puppy Mr Sawamura owned.

Shoyou sighed in utter bliss and couldn’t help but grin widely when he realized he wasn’t the source of interest anymore. He couldn’t exactly ask the werewolf what it was thinking, but something told him his previous heroism had saved him his life.

“O-oh! Y-y-yeah!” he stuttered, voice an uneven mess from the copious crying, “I promised I’d b-bring food, since you were probably too hurt to get some of your o-own…” he said as he crouched and opened the backpack.

The werewolf’s head was already butting its way past Shoyou’s hands and into the backpack. His ears perked in interest and his tail wagged ever so discreetly behind him.

Shoyou suppressed a chuckle. He was still not in the clear.

“It’s all y—” But the beast had already dived for the food.

Big jaws and sharp fangs bit into the raw meat as though it were dough and Shoyou watched in both mortification and interest, noting every behavior and movement with keen interest and filing it to the back of his head. He’d never been this close to one under such unguarded circumstances. Never watched a werewolf do something so mundane and non-threatening.

“I n-never got your name,” he stuttered quietly, still shaken by what had happened, as he watched him practically inhale the food before him, “Though I guess I never will, huh…” he said, smiling bitterly to himself.

How he’d love to learn more, now that he knew the full story. Or, well, partially knew the full story… There was still so much to learn. So many things he might have been taught wrong—_had been _taught wrong. So many new answers and Easter eggs to uncover about this fascinating species. What’s more, this one was the largest on record undoubtedly. Even in human form he had appeared tall and broad. Shoyou wondered so many things…

Things he would never get the answer of.

Unless…

He watched him finish the last of the meat—licking his teeth and mouth clean and sniffing some more. Presumably dissatisfied.

“Hey, c-could I maybe…” he gulped as those eyes trained themselves on him yet again, “Could I come see you again? Tomorrow morning, maybe? At d-dawn? I have so many questions. I know you probably hate me, and would rather maul me to a painful d-death, but I really want to underst—”

He was cut off abruptly by the weight of a large paw pressing onto his fumbling hands a little too roughly. _Was he being annoying? Probably._

“S-sorry…” he said and looked up into those eyes again. He didn’t exactly get an affirmative, but the werewolf nodded slowly and turned to walk away into the forest.

Shoyou couldn’t hear him leave, nor could he tell how far he’d gone. Hell, for all he knew he could have been following him. He supposed it didn’t matter, though. Shoyou was just glad he’d managed to come out of it alive.

Once out of the forest he questioned—rather loudly—his previous decision to ask to see the beast again.

Luckily for him, this time it’d be at dawn; before the big moon above could turn his manageable opponent into an unmanageable nightmare.

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Everyone was long asleep by the time Shoyou had returned to their little cabin. He’d spent a minute listening to his mother’s and sisters quiet breathing before crawling into his own bed.

Alas, he couldn’t sleep a wink. The entire night he turned and squirmed and pondered the morning and what would happen to him. He knew he stood no chance against the massive werewolf. Not even six poisonous arrows could take it down properly, what the hell could Shoyou’s measly knife or cheap arrows do?

_Not even the poisonous kind. Just regular old arrows that even humans could survive if they were misplaced. _Which Shoyou’s were—often—even under calm circumstances, much less under the pressure he’d experiences that night.

It left him thinking about his graduation, and how exactly he’d managed to even pass. Weren’t the requirements for such things supposed to be higher? How in heavens name could someone like him pass in the short time he did? It wasn’t like he was particularly favored by master Ikkei, either. To be frank; the man thought of him as a silly, wobbly child. Like a newborn deer chasing after its mother.

So _how _had he passed?

The day he’d been told he had passed all tests he’d been too overjoyed to pay any circumstance of his graduation any mind, but after today’s occurrences the questions were swirling in his mind.

He got out of bed, despite the chilly air or the night, dressed and tip-toed his way out of their shared little cabin.

In the old town, by the central square, stood Kenma’s house. Built in grey stone and dark wood, it blended well with the surrounding buildings all tightly crammed next to each other. Since his parents were shoemakers, their house was located right above their shop around the square. The street leading up to the town square would usually be lined with vendors and stands and various small shops, open and eager to steal your money, though it was as quiet as the grave at night.

Or, well… early morning…

He knew for a fact that Kenma wasn’t asleep. He’d been Shoyou’s friend since childhood, and they’d practically grown up together. Shoyou knew his friend’s habits better than Kenma himself. The guy, as obsesses ad he was, spent every waking hour glued to his books. He read so much Shoyou feared his eyes would fall out of his head.

Kenma was a man of few words and even fewer actions, which meant he had plenty of energy to spare for his night-owl activities. On any other day, Shoyou would complain and rant to him about proper sleeping habits—much of which he’d learnt from Suga-san—but on this day he was more than delighted to see a light-source flickering from Kenma’s window. 

He picked up a pebble lying around and threw it at the closed window. A gentle _thud _sounded, but nothing happened. He knew he’d heard it; Kenma was just too lazy to stand and see what Shoyou wanted. So he continued the motion over and over until the window slammed open too loudly considering the hour and a frustrated mop of dark hair peeked out.

“_What?” _came Kenma’s loud, hissing whisper.

“_Let me in!” _Shoyou hissed back.

Kenma’s head disappeared for a few minutes, and just as Shoyou had begun fearing his friend wouldn’t let him in the front door to their place opened. Kenma stood in the doorframe, holding Kuroo to his chest so he wouldn’t run out.

The cat seemed more likely to fall asleep in his arms than flee, but Shoyou knew how much the thing meant to Kenma, so he didn’t comment and instead quietly thanked him.

Well inside his room, Shoyou burst.

“I needed someone to talk to and I didn’t wanna wake Suga-san.”

Kenma sighed but otherwise continued stroking thin fingers through Kuroo’s dark fur, “What have you done now?” he asked.

“You’re sighing too much,” Shoyou grumbled half-heartedly, “And, for the record, _a lot,” _he admitted before continuing his pacing back and forth in the confined space.

Without waiting for a reply, he continued; as fast-paced as always, “I might have realized something incredible about werewolves and now I’ve promised _again _that I would see him _again _and I’m _petrified _because last time—as in, a few hours ago—I nearly got mauled to death, and, Kenma, their fangs are terrifying and—oh—this one is, like, an abnormal—”

“Wait! Slow down! I don’t understand a word you’re spewing!”

He stopped his pacing and took a deep breath; steadying his breathing and unclenching his fists.

“You’re not gonna like this.”

“When do I ever like anything you say?”

“Rude!” he reprimanded, then sighed dramatically, “I did something really, really stupid Kenma. Last night, during the hunt. I saved a werewolf.”

Kenma’s face went through various expressions. Although mostly unnoticeable to most, Shoyou had grown accustomed to it over the years. He could tell what his friend was thinking as it was happening.

And Kenma didn’t look so happy to hear that his close friend was a turncoat.

“You did _what _now? Weren’t you supposed to chase down that vicious hound that’s been digging through fresh graves lately?” he asked, bewildered. As expected from a sane person.

“Well, yes,” he started, fiddling with the skin of his dry cuticles, “But that didn’t really go as planned. We still haven’t found him—”

“_Him?”_

He pulled a particularly loose piece, and his cuticle started bleeding for it. The silence was deafening.

“Yes… I mean—I don’t know their _gender, _or anything, but considering who I met today…” he mumbled.

He knew he was making no sense at all, so he sighed and started from the beginning; “Look, I’ll make it short. I was running through the woods, looking for werewolves to kill—as ordered, right—when I ran into this…beast…this…._massive werewolf—” _he stretched both arms as wide as they would go and swung them outwards to say _‘even bigger than I can reach’._

“And it was badly injured. I guess a chaser before me had managed to hit target, because six whole arrows were protruding from its abdomen and upper body—”

“Wait,” Kenma interrupted, “_Six? _And it survived?”

“Yep.”

“Six of those _poisonous _arrows the chasers use?”

He nodded and continued; “Yes. And it survived, though it didn’t look like it would for long, and so I…” he stopped to breathe. Closed his eyes and felt the rough texture of the bed beneath his palm, “So I gave it the antidote and promised it I would be back to give it some food the next night—which was tonight,” he finished.

Kenma’s mouth hung open in a tiny ‘o’. His hand had stopped its movements through Kuroo’s fur, much to his displeasure—who meowed in annoyance and bopped his hand as if to urge him to continue. It reminded Shoyou of his earlier encounter. Of the head of fur so eager to see the contents of his backpack.

“You let it live? _Saved it? _Why, Shoyou?” he asked. An echo of Suga-san’s words. The accusation lying beneath still stung from within, but this time it wasn’t as hard on his heart and pride. This time he had solid proof to back that impulsive decision of his.

“It’s not just a bloodthirsty beast, Kenma,” he said, “And that’s where we are now. That’s why I’m here. That night, I saw something in its eyes. I saw something…human…there. I didn’t get it at the time, but my gut was telling me to spare it, so I did,” he squinted against the first rays of the sunrise bouncing off windows and glass ornaments and directly into his eyes.

“And today I got the proof I needed to back that decision. I went back as I’d promised the werewolf, but he wasn’t there when I came back. I thought he would attack me, but instead he appeared before me as a human, Kenma. An actual human. I didn’t see his face, but I saw most of him, and he was undoubtedly human!” his breath caught in his throat as he watched Kenma’s expression crumble into something much like distaste. He steeled onwards, “It spoke to me. Called us demons and said we were the real dangers, and I didn’t wanna believe it at first but he’s right, Kenma! If even just a few of them can transform like he did, that means the nightchasers have killed countless of _individuals. _People, Kenma!” he concluded.

Birds began to chirp outside Kenma’s window, and Kuroo hopped off his lap to jump up onto the windowsill and watch them—perched on the wire between the houses outside.

Kenma’s gaze was locked intently on Shoyou. Analyzing him. He feared the worst—saw the betrayal in his friend’s gaze.

“I don’t know what to think, Shoyou.”

He turned his head to watch Kuroo scratch weakly at the closed window, eager to hunt pigeons and sparrows.

“But you’re my friend, so…” he grumbled and entwined his hands in his lap.

Shoyou’s smile felt forced, strained, on his lips, “I suppose that’s a start,” he said, “I just needed to vent, because I’m going again.”

“Out there?” his friend asked. Bewildered and concerned, as much as he’d deny it. It made Shoyou smile for real.

“Yeah! Don’t worry, though,” he said and got up, “I think I’ll be fine,” he said and put a hand on the worn doorknob.

“You _think?”_

“I’m, like, almost certain,” he confirmed. Kenma didn’t look the least bit eased as he got up and followed Shoyou down the stairs and to the front porch. “Come visit us for dinner, OK?” he asked, which was Kenma’s way of confirming Shoyou came back in one piece.

He grinned widely at his friend, with the warmth of early morning sun prickling his neck and shoulders, “I will! Your mom’s stew is the best!”

“And, oh! Kenma?”

“Yeah?”

He squirmed, “Could this stay between us? I’m note sure I have enough evidence to back my actions if it were to come to a trial of some sorts.” He scratched the back of his neck nervously.

Kenma flashed him the briefest of smiles, “Don’t worry, Shoyou.”

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_Maybe I'm foolish, maybe I'm blind;_

_thinking I can see through this and see what's behind._

_Got no way to prove it, so maybe I'm lying._

_But I'm only human after all._

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As dawn slowly bled into morning, the forest of Miyagi came alive. Unlike last night, he could hear the stream of a nearby river flow gently. He couldn’t see the source of the sound, but he heard it clear as day.

It wasn’t as terrifying to wander the forest during the day, when he didn’t have the threat of blindness looming over his shoulders and threatening to render him partially handicapped. 

The two arched redwood trees stood in the same place as usual, and to the right of them was the little clearing where he’d encountered the very _human _werewolf. Unlike last night, he awaited him out in the open, sitting leaned against a tree opposite of Shoyou with his eyes closed. Looking very much human.

Shoyou noted something he hadn’t been able to last night; he was handsome. In the way heroic men and princes in tales of honor and dragon-slaying were. Nothing about him screamed enormous beast of hell. Though he didn’t look fragile or innocent, either.

His face seemed stuck in a permanent scowl, even while sleeping; those black eyebrows pinched tightly together. But it wasn’t his expression, or the tautness of his posture that made him seem princely—it was his features. Those perfect cheeks, his even skin and swaying, black locks. The width of those shoulders and that chest, and the firmness of those muscles everywhere else on his body. The scars across perfect skin, found a little all over. Like a trained combatant. An experienced prince stripped off his shining armor and groomed horse. If Shoyou hadn’t known what and who he really was, and hadn’t seen the way he devours raw meat like it’ll run away from him any second, he would have guessed the guy was—if not a prince—then at least a knight, or a priest. Perhaps even a coin master or an archer. Something _prettier _than a feral werewolf.

He watched for a moment the way his chest rose steadily, and the way his lips glistened in the sun, and thought he looked _holy _rather than demonic. Powerful, certainly. But not necessarily evil.

“How long do you plan to stare, dumbass?” he suddenly spoke, and Shoyou flinched so hard he fell back on his ass and gasped in shock.

The werewolf opened his eyes and immediately cut his gaze towards Shoyou, who laid splayed out on the ground next to him, completely baffled. He was surprised to find that those blue eyes were there even in his human form, albeit less illuminating and more… well, human. Still, blue eyes were a rarity around these parts. Perhaps this person wasn’t even from around here. It would explain why he hadn’t been spotted before, considering his size.

“Sorry,” he muttered, “I just thought your appearance didn’t match what you are at all.”

“And what am I?” the man asked, a bite to his words and a frown plastered on his sharp features, “A _hound of hell?”_

“More like a fallen angel, really.”

The silence that befell them was almost painful.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, seriously? I’m genuinely curious,” he asked, “Did your parents drop you too often when you were a baby, or something?”

Shoyou felt his brows drop and his fists clench, “Alright, I get it! You don’t like me!” he shouted, “You could at least tell me your name, so I know who’s insulting my caring and very thoughtful mother,” he demanded.

“And no, she didn’t drop me,” he added as an afterthought.

The werewolf only started at him for a moment, unmoving, and Shoyou felt the itch of fear from last night crawl over his skin. _Maybe he should keep his mouth shut, _he reminded himself. To his relief, the werewolf merely sighed in annoyance.

“I’m Kageyama Tobio,” he said, “And I wanna know why you saved my life, Hinata Shoyou the folk hero.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quote is from "Only Human" by Rag 'n' Bone Man


	3. The Night Academy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck me, this entire chapter was just me struggling to figure out which is the surname and which is the name name  
Christ
> 
> Anyways. This was supposed to be freaking 14.000 words longs but I cut it in half, as you can see.

”So, let’s see if I got this right,” he said, rubbing his chin as if in deep thought, “You saved me…on impulse…because I looked like I was _begging _for you to spare my life?”

Shoyou stared at the ground by his feet. A worm slithered its way through the mud, picking up crumbles of dirt as it passed by his toes. His blood boiled beneath his skin.

“Okay, seriously!” he exclaimed and threw his arms out—to hell with fearing him. This guy was ridiculous!

“What the hell is wrong with you!? I get why you hate me, but you don’t have to act like such a king for it!” he yelled and immediately regretted it the second Kageyama’s eyes darkened threateningly.

He shut his mouth, and silence enveloped them, until Kageyama let out a low, irritated gruff and ran agitated fingers through his hair.

“Maybe if you lot didn’t go around killing innocent beings left and right for your sick entertainment, I wouldn’t be so hostile towards you,” he declared with a snarl and a twitch of his head. The movement made his long bangs swish past his eyes and cast an ominous shadow over his face.

Shoyou stopped whatever he had been about to say. “Wait,” he said instead, “_I _haven’t killed a single werewolf! You don’t have to clump me in with the rest, and certainly not with the likes of Kindaichi,” he finished and frowned.

He’d never liked the guy. He was pretentious and acted like some mr-know-it-all. Pretended, always, to be what he’s not. Sure, he had experience and a mighty bloodline of dedicated nightchasers to back his authority over Shoyou, but he’d be damned if he’d ever accepted that turnip head looking down on him the way he deeply wished to. Like Shoyou’s mere existence was a curse to the Nightchasers.

“Kindaichi?” Kageyama asked.

“He’s a Hunter of the Nightchasers. Really nasty guy. Almost as nasty as you,” he grumbled.

Kageyama barked a very assertive _what now _in reply, and Shoyou had never been quicker to beg forgiveness.

“So you’ve never killed a werewolf?” he asked, “Not once?”

“No. Never.”

Kageyama appeared to mull it over for a moment; seemingly surprised, perhaps even shocked, at the fact.

“Why?” Shoyou asked, hand coming down to tug at the hem of his shirt to ease his growing nerves. He knew something about his position within the Nightchasers had long been rooted in deeper issues. “Is there something weird about that?”

“Well, can’t you deduce that yourself?” asked the werewolf, who was pacing back and forth in front of him again, “Don’t you find it strange that someone of a skill level as low as yours graduated the Academy and joined the Nightchasers so young?”

Something about his knowledge of the Night Academy, and the graduation process of Nightchasers, rubbed Shoyou the wrong way.

“How do you know all that?” he asked.

Kageyama didn’t answer, only kept pacing. Acting as if he hadn’t heard him. How close to the Nightchasers had he been to possess such precious information? Had he managed to venture all the way into town, and if so, had he hurt someone? Why would a werewolf get so close to the heart of its biggest predator? None of it made any sense to Shoyou, but he felt he had more pressing matters to discuss with the knowledgeable werewolf.

The worm by his feet traveled over the toe of his boot and disappeared into the grass patch to his left.

“Of course I think it’s strange, but I just thought they were in dire need of help. With the Graverobber running rampant and all.”

_“Graverobber?”_ Kageyama asked and raised a brow his way.

“Yeah,” he said, “A werewolf’s been spotted repeatedly on the outskirts of town raiding graves and eating of its corpses.”

Kageyama visibly paled at that, and his expression scrunched up into something sour. Like he’d bitten a fat lemon straight down the middle. Shoyou would laugh if he didn’t think it’d cost him an arm and a leg.

He continued; “I thought they just needed more people to find it and…” he trailed off. The message was clear. Kageyama knew what he meant; he didn’t have to spell out what the nightchasers did with the werewolves they hunted.

“You’re not wrong,” the werewolf said, “But it’s not for the reasons you think. This’s got nothing to do with ‘The Graverobber’,” he exaggerated the quotation marks and made an expression which screamed; _your names are stupid._

“They allowed you to graduate solely because they’re running out of time and resources and they need more hunters immediately.”

“I don’t understand.”

“Of course you don’t. Why would you be familiar with this side of the story,” he scoffed in disdain and squinted down at Shoyou, “The truth is that there’s a rampant pack wreaking havoc through the lands. I don’t know the details, but I know they’ve risen and are slowly but surely fighting back. It’s definitely putting the kingdom in massive dept,” he explained.

Shoyou didn’t understand a thing. Was the Nightchaser situation so dire that an entire portion of the werewolf population were planning a combined attack against humanity? He understood their hatred towards humans, but surely overthrowing the throne and starting a war was unnecessary labor for something easily avoidable? He knew the nightchasers only stood on both legs because the call for protection meant they were needed out here, in the depths of forests, to protect the people of the cities in which they lived. Surely if the werewolves stepped back and stopped hunting humans, humans would stop hunting them.

He voiced those thoughts to Kageyama, who in turn merely laughed and shook his head; as if Shoyou were nothing but an ignorant child. Perhaps he was, at the time, but then and there the snigger felt like a punch to his pride.

“_You_ wouldn’t understand, _Hinata Shoyou; the Folk Hero_,” he said, tongue dipped in venom, and turned to leave.

Shoyou didn’t try to stop him. Instead, he stomped his way back to town where a surely hungry and worried Kenma awaited.

Stupid, stubborn, arrogant werewolves.

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The town at daytime was a bustling, beating heart seeping life into every stone and nook in Miyagi. Vendors sold rusty watches, shopkeepers called for sales, and dancing performers tiptoed through a cheering crowd where money came flying in the glimmering shape of copper coins.

Kenma’s house stood dead center of the attention of a multitude of guests. His older sister, Atsuko, sat crouched before a customer—taking measurements.

“Oi, Atsuko!” he greeted, eager to see her again.

Atsuko was Kenma’s polar opposite. Actually, his entire family was. They were people of nature, always eager to venture out to Shoyou’s place by the woods to catch a moment of that freeing bliss the outdoors brought and, consequently, freedom from the clammy city.

His sister was a force from heaven and hell itself; always energetic, eager to help and with a tongue as sharp as a whip. Her standard pose was always with her hands shoved in the crook of her hips, and her legs planted firmly on the ground beneath her.

This was the exact pose she greeted him with, squinting to see him through the strong sunlight.

“Oi! Sho-chan!” she grinned and yelled happily; “How lucky to see ya!”

Perhaps a little too happily, judging by the squirming and flinching of shoulders around her.

He laughed heartily as he approached the oasis that was the shade of the shop, “I was invited to dinner by Kenma! You’re not eating with us?” he asked and glanced down at her black, dirty hands. The soot came up to her elbows where the sleeves of her shirt had been shoved halfway up her strong arms.

She looked a lot like Kenma, which made the sight of her bright, grinning face downright unsettling at times when her eyes crinkled _just-so _to truly show their likeness. Atsuko was six years older and had inherited their father’s store the moment Kenma said he couldn’t find it in himself to care a moment longer for the dusty, old thing.

“I’m not, my adorable little Sho-chan,” she started, and pinched his cheek. He was certain It’d leave a black mark, but he didn’t mind too much. She was the only person whom he tolerated calling him ‘cute’ and ‘adorable’.

“As ye can see, I’ve go’ too much to do!” she said and spun around in a dramatic showcase of the brimming place, “Mayb’ next time, a’right?” she finished and ruffled his hair.

He turned to walk up the stairs and heard her shout after him; “Mom’s stew turned out ‘specially fine t’day!”

He smiled, despite the heaviness which he’d been carrying all the way from the Miyagi forest, and knocked on the door to the Kozume residence.

The door opened to reveal a very unhappy Kenma, probably for having been made to go open the door and been forced to thereby socialize. He brightened when he saw who it was, though.

“Shoyou,” he breathed and pulled him inside, “Are you OK?” he whispered.

Shoyou made a shushing motion and signaled that he’d tell him more later.

“I thought you were dead,” his friend mumbled and gave him a quick hug, which in Kenma meant: _I was worried about you. I’m glad you’re safe._

He smiled, “They’re whispering about you around town; heard them as I was passing. You finally got in?”

Kenma smiled back and cast his eyes towards the corner of the cabin by the door, shily sinking into himself. “They came this morning, a few hours after you’d left, with the official calling. I’ll be moving out in three days and into the official Boarding House of the Night Academy.”

Shoyou shouted in delight and flung himself at Kenma—squeezing tightly—who only complained half-heartedly in response.

“I’m so happy for you, Kenma!” he practically yelled.

From the other side of the hallway a head of brown hair popped out and peeked at them in interest. Mrs. Hikari Kozume cast Shoyou one of her signature smiles and bounced up to them.

“Sho-chan! Sho-chan!” she giggled and hugged him tightly. She smelled like lavender and cooked chicken, and her chestnut locks tickled his cheek where it rested against her collarbone. “Have ya heard? My sweet little Kenma got his calling earlier! I couldn’t be more proud! I can’t believe we now have an academic in our bloodline!”

Her voice bounced off the surrounding walls and warmed Shoyou’s heart in the best way possible. Hikari-san was the kindest woman Shoyou knew, next to his own mother. She was a burly, loud woman much like Atsuko perfectly capable of tipping any man no matter his size.

“Com’ in, com’ in! Don’ just stand ther’! We’re to celebrate t’day!” She grabbed a hold of Shoyou’s sleeve and started dragging him through the small apartment.

In the kitchen, by the table, sat the only person in the household Shoyou could see being related to Kenma. His hair, a desaturated brown, fell down to his shoulders much like Kenma’s did, and the absent look in those glossy eyes eerily reminded him of Kenma’s tendency to space out.

Mr. Kenzou Kozume was a blind man, wounded at war. It meant Hikari-san was tied to their house, constantly looking after him. Not that Kenzou-san in the least enjoyed or wished for her constant doting. He quite frankly merely tolerated it in the name of love. His sight he’d lost long ago and had adjusted to this new way of living. Kenma has had a blind father for as long as he can remember, he had told Shoyou decades ago.

Still, despite his lack of sight, he always looked right at Shoyou; as if he could read between the lines of his soul.

“Shoyou.”

He came forward and grabbed his hand in a quiet greeting. Kenzou-san reached out and patted him on the cheek. He wasn’t a man of words; as is common with the men of the Kozume family.

“Sit, son,” he said, “My love’s made the most wonderful stew. We’ve got reason to celebrate you see, though I’m sure you’ve already heard enough of it,” he said.

“Thank you, Kenzou-san, for inviting me to your table.”

“Nonsense! Yer part of the family!” Hikari-san exclaimed and slammed down a bowl of stew in front of Shoyou.

“She’s right,” Kenzou-san nodded, “And I told you to drop the san already.”

…

They ate their food in relative silence and chatted at times idly of Kenma’s future studies and plans. Where to after the Academy? Was there an after? As their bellies filled, and their plates emptied, Hikari-san eventually stood and began collecting their dishes to wash.

“Let me help, Hikari-san—“he started, but was shoved wordlessly towards the kitchen door instead with a quirk of her thin eyebrow.

He sighed and sent a guilty smile her way. Hikari-san only continued whistling and scrubbing. From his seat at the table, Kenzou-san observed him quietly.

“Shoyou,” he suddenly spoke and motioned for him to come closer, “Your path may be long, and hard, but I want you to know that the Kozumes will always have faith in you. You’ll accomplish great things in this world, wherever you go and whatever you choose to do, just make sure you never succumb to the darkness of others.”

It sounded like holy prophecy coming from a man on his deathbed who’d spoken to God’s angel, but this was no holy prophecy. Only a blind, aging man giving him his utmost support in the only way he knew how to.

“Thank you, Kenzou-san,” he said.

Unintentionally uneased by Kenzou-san’s words.

…

Kenma was sitting in bed when he came up to his room. Kuroo lay splayed across his lap and served as an armrest for Kenma’s arms as he read.

“I’ve got news, about the werewolf,” he said as he entered, closing the door behind him gently. Downstairs, the sound of Hikari-san’s hearty whistles of a foreign tune filled the stifling air. It reached all the way to where they sat on Kenma’s bed.

“So you really did go to see him,” his friend stated, and shut his book tenderly, “On a scale of _mauled _to _chased near to death, _how terrible would you describe that encounter to have been?” he joked.

Shoyou laughed at the stone-cold expression on his face.

“Well…” he started, and scratched his neck nervously, “How to say… He’s, well, _a lot _to take in. I don’t know myself where he gets some of his information from, or how dangerous he truly is, but he didn’t… do anything…really…” he confessed.

Kenma seemed genuinely surprised.

“I mean, he definitely has a threatening aura, but I’m not getting bad-guy vibes from him.”

His friend hummed in thought, “Well, it’s true that you’re exceptionally good at reading people. Perhaps you’re right. Perhaps he’s really not bad. What of it then? What does that mean to you?”

His question caught Shoyou off guard.

Well? What _did _that mean to him? That all nightchasers were murderous monsters? No. He knew at least two thirds of the guys in his squad, Daichi-san included in that mix, and he knew they weren’t bad by any measure. Quite the contrary; they were all good men. Well, except for Kindaichi, maybe, but even he had his qualities. As nasty as his personality was, Shoyou couldn’t stand there and pretend like that made him evil or a murderer or anything of the sort, but at the same time…

What had Kageyama really meant? What was all that talk about the reason for Shoyou’s recruitment? Something about not being aware of _that side of the story. _The insinuation behind that made it crawl underneath his skin.

“I’m not sure,” he answered truthfully, “I think I need more information. I have to know why and how I managed to graduate when I did, and with the grades I did. I need more information. He told me something about _‘their side of the story’;_ maybe there’s something to that?” he thought out loud.

His fingers were running along the sewn pattern of the sheets.

“I plan to meet up with him again. We kind of got off on the bad footing this morning, but I’m certain I’ll be able to find him again if I try a little harder. Maybe I can drive him out using food. He really liked the chicken I’d brought!”

He’d started pacing the room. His movements made both Kuroo and Kenma agitated, one of which hissed at him in annoyance. The other merely frowned, “You’re gonna _lure out a werewolf, _a beast known for consuming human flesh, in a forest known for said beasts, using _meat_?” he asked, incredulous, “Are you _insane, _Shoyou, or just plain stupid?”

Shoyou didn’t know what to say to that. It had already been established that he was, indeed, very—very stupid.

Still, something called him to it, and his mind wouldn’t rest.

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He ventured back into the forest that night. He’d realized far too late that he had no more chicken to tempt the werewolf with; he’d already raided their pantry, so he made the bold decision of wandering the forest at dusk aimlessly until he found him.

It didn’t take him long. He found him crouched over one of the rivers near their meeting point, drinking from the fresh, cold water. He didn’t so much as flinch when Shoyou coughed loudly to get his attention. A second attempt didn’t help either. On the third attempt he realized Kageyama was deliberately avoiding him. He must have heard Shoyou from a mile away; surely, he’d heard him try to get his attention a foot away from him.

Shoyou’s brows furrowed into a borderline painful frown. _What a jerk!_

“You know, it’s common courtesy to greet an acquaintance. Or at least acknowledge their presence,” he said, and put both hands on his hips.

Kageyama made the barest movement of wiping his hands dry on his pants before standing and turning towards Shoyou.

“What do you want?” he sighed, “The moon is about to come out and I’m not in the mood to stay human once it does. If it’s important, spit it out, if not then just piss off already.”

From around them came the sounds of the living forest. In the far distance he heard the clatter of hooves on dirt road. Probably a traveler passing through the town, or a trader looking to settle for tomorrow. A lot of them passed Shoyou’s cabin every day quite regularly.

He took a deep breath.

“Look, I know you don’t like me, and—frankly, I don’t like you very much either—but I’m tired of fighting you and just want some answers. That’s all. I just want you to tell me some things about werewolves you think I don’t know, and maybe explain what you meant when you said: _‘the other side of the story’,” _he exaggerated the quotation marks the same way Kageyama had.

He willed himself to look up and into those flowing rivers so alive with wilderness and spirit. There they stood like that, for what felt like an eternity, until Kageyama grunted; “No.”

_No—_

_No?!_

“No?! Why no?!” he shouted. Kageyama squirmed away from him and sent a nasty scowl his way from behind those black curtains.

“I said what I said, and I meant what I meant!” he yelled back, “Fucking no! I’m not telling you shit! Why’d you think I’d waste my precious time in spilling important information to a fucking human—a _nightchaser _at that! Do you take me for an idiot? Go find someone else to bother! I’m done here!”

“Do you not have an ounce of gratitude!? I saved your life! Why would I wanna hurt you?!”

“Hell would I know?! You shitheads wear our teeth around your fucking necks for Christ’s sake!”

“It’s not _my _fault our traditions are skewed!”

“No, but you’re part of the fucking system either way you twist it!”

Something hot and heavy fell atop and between them as they heaved in lung-fulls of air. Something about what he’d just said made that humming itch in his scull grow to life. He couldn’t put his finger on what, but the way he’d just spoken—

“Leave me alone,” he finished, so quietly Shoyou barely caught it.

“Kage—”

“I said leave! I don’t trust you.”

And leave he did.

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The Nightchasers’ tower loomed like a dark shadow on the hill by the forest. The air this time of year felt heavy with electricity. A storm was slowly brewing. He knew its wrath would befall the town and people of Miyagi soon. However, as he approached the large wooden door of the tower the ground beneath his feet was still sandy with dried dirt.

They were having a gathering tonight, to plan their next attack and discuss the situation of the Graverobber.

“We ought to do somethin’, gramps,” master Keishin pleaded, “The people are mad furious that their graves are bein’ essentially plundered!”

“Let ‘em fuss, then. We can’t afford to spend resources huntin’ a hound out to get the already dead.”

“But, master Ikkei—” Kindaichi spoke up, “Wouldn’t you say preserving the calm of the common people should be of utmost priority? Isn’t that our sole responsibility—to give security both in mind and matter?”

Shoyou wanted to barf.

…

While Kindaichi’s plea didn’t get through to Ikkei, a quick vote told them it had gotten through most of the Nightchasers gathered. They rationed their resources and spent the rest of the evening planning a special unit that would go hunt for the Graverobber. Shoyou wasn’t one of them, but he still had questions for master Ikkei not regarding the wanted werewolf.

“Excuse me, master,” he said and tapped him gently on the shoulder. He turned and grinned down at Shoyou.

“Shrimpy!” he said, “What’s the matter, boy? Got somethin’ on your mind?”

“Uh, yes,” he said, resisting the urge to roll his eyes and scowl at the stupid, _stupid, _nickname, “I have some questions, regarding my graduation… do you have a moment?”

His old master’s grin fell from his face, and his expression turned grim; paled in real time right before him.

“What’s it about?” asked the old master.

“Well, as I’m _sure _you’re all aware, I’m not the best hunter of the bunch,” he began self-deprecatingly, and ignored the hit his pride took when master Ikkei didn’t object to it, “And, well, I’m just curious, I guess, as to how I managed to…graduate…in the first place if I’m nothing but an inconvenience.”

Master Ikkei scratched the scrub of white hair on his chin and observed him quietly. “I’m not sure I can tell ye that, Shrimpy. You’ll have to find someone else to explain that to ya. All I can say is that you’re one of the lucky candidates,” he finally settled for, much to Shoyou’s disappointment, and patted his head before passing and leaving him there, by the age-old desk, in complete darkness.

How in heaven’s name was he to find information about anything with people like Kageyama and master Ikkei holding onto it for dear life.

How annoying. But Shoyou was nothing if not stubborn.

He just had to think of another way. 

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As it turns out, he didn’t have to spend much time thinking.

One early morning, three days after his dinner with the Kozumes, Shoyou stumbled right into a pile of books—

“Kenma?”

A single, heavy book that would put bricks and stone slabs to shame tumbled off the top of the mountain in his friend’s skinny arms and fell to the ground with a loud _thud. _It splattered muddy rainwater on their ankles and Kenma groaned in response.

“I hate rain,” he muttered, voice muffled behind his tower of knowledge.

Shoyou laughed, “Where’d you get all that? Don’t you own enough books as it is?” he asked.

“These aren’t for me. I was tasked with picking up a book order from Mr. Coda and am on my way to bring them to the Night Academy’s official library.”

As he said it, a light flickered to life in Shoyou’s head; an idea so bright it blindsided him and left his head reeling.

He’d been trying for days to squeeze out information from the stubborn werewolf to no avail. Master Ikkei had been no less a victim to Shoyou’s insistent questions. Just when he thought he wouldn’t get anywhere, and just as he’d been about to give up, Kenma swept in to save the day once more.

“Kenma! Yes! That’s it!” he exclaimed, which earned him a displeased look from his friend, whose arms were now trembling,” Let me come with you to the Library. I’ve been trying for so long to get info out of that guy but he won’t tell me anything. Surely, the _official Library of the Night Academy_ must have _something!_”

Above them, thunder roared, and the rain came pouring down harder on the rusted rooftops. The streets were surprisingly lively, considering the weather. People were rushing back and forth; some with cover over their heads, most with nothing but the hair on their head—if they had even that.

Kenma sighed, “No, Shoyou,” he said, “I can’t just sneak you into the Academy, much less its private Library. The books there are worth more than your life.”

“Please, Kenma! I need answers!” he pleaded, hands clasped together in front of his face in a gesture of prayer, “Don’t you think it’s weird that they _are _so securely guarded? And if they’re so precious, surely there must be something important written in them! I need to know, Kenma. My future path will be determined by this very moment!”

“Okay, okay! You don’t have to be so dramatic!” his friend conceded. Sweat beaded on his forehead from the exertion, and he pushed up a knee to adjust the books in his hold. “But only if you carry these for me, and any future orders I’ll have to carry to the Academy,” he bargained.

Shoyou smiled and grabbed a hold of the many heavy books. They weren’t as heavy as they seemed in Kenma’s arms, but then again while Shoyou spent his days chopping wood and shooting arrows Kenma stayed in the same four positions on his couch or bed, reading.

…

The road to the looming stone walls of the Academy was short but intimidating to say the least. It wasn’t scary, like the Miyagi Forest where their hunting took place, but it was certainly an experience that set every hair on end.

It was a stony path through the main road of Miyagi town that which in the distance, between the houses, only teased of the Academy’s walls. They were an impressive construction that ran along the entirety of the humongous plot of land owned by the Night Academy. Looming high, and only coming into their full, majestic view once you got close enough to see the tip of the Academy glancing from behind them. The heavy, iron-barred gate always stood open, welcoming to visitors—including the common folk. From there, people of all classes and backgrounds went in and out of the Academy’s bounds—passing bulky guards armed with the finest muskets on their way through.

Shoyou gulped as they passed.

Within the confides of the wall, the air smelled of the many fresh roses which grew in the Central Garden, located on each side of the stone path that lead up to the front-entrance of the building.

It was an impressive structure; four stories high and made of red stone and black, pointed roofs that shone like metal on rainy days. Shoyou had never ventured inside the palace-like building; always got freaked out by the guards in front of it. By their feet sat muscular dogs with black nozzles quietly. Observing.

“This is scary…” he whispered to Kenma, who didn’t pay him any mind as he walked right up to one of the guards and told him their business.

“I work here. Was tasked to deliver these books,” he said, monotone as always, and gestured vaguely towards an unstable Shoyou attempting to flash the guard something resembling a smile, “He’s with me,” Kenma added.

The broad guard nodded in disinterest; probably too occupied with trying not to fall asleep to care much about who Shoyou was and what he was doing there at all. Perhaps he assumed him to be Kenma’s busser or something. He was shorter, and a lot more childlike, after all. Couldn’t blame the man, as much as it hurt his pride.

They entered the large structure without issue, and Shoyou was consequently shocked into silence.

Inside, he saw red; everything from the carpets to the heavy curtains was a maroon red which flowed together with shades of gold, green and black. The brown floor beneath their feet made of heavy oak, and mostly covered by the finest Turkish mats Shoyou had ever seen in his life. Not that he’d seen many places as nice as this one, but he knew that the material which he currently stood on was more valuable than any life he’d ever lead.

The walls were lined with massive paintings. Some of them even Shoyou recognized. The majority held some sort of education-based meaning to them; based on the hundreds of portraits and artworks of old men writing with feather, sitting by their wooden desks in deep thought.

Vases of gorgeous, red roses stood on every window; as bright and vibrant as if they’d recently been plucked.

Through the halls, hundreds of students and staff passed hurriedly—all of them in a rush to a lecture or meeting. All of them dressed in heavy robes and hard-soled shoes that clacked against the floor as they went.

They passed so many doors that Shoyou began to feel dizzy from the repeated visual. If the Night Academy appeared intimidating from the outside, it was nothing compared to the weight of luxury and power which flaunted itself inside the building.

As they approached a double door on the far end of the corridor, Shoyou vaguely noted a sign overhead which read: _Night Academy Official Library and Record Collection_. Kenma pushed open the two doors and stepped inside, lingering to make sure Shoyou didn’t get smacked dead by the swinging doors.

Every inch of the room inside sat covered in books, rolls and papers; piled onto each other and squished onto shelves like they very suddenly ran out of room but had no choice other than to cram this one area to the absolute brim.

A clearing in the middle indicated a pathway for people to pass through the mess, and by the end of it he noted rows upon rows of high tables—most of which were occupied by reading professors and students of all ages. The bookshelves climbed all the way up to the third floor, and so to reach the upper shelves moveable staircases and ladders could be spotted all around the place. Grouchy old men with untended beards that reached their knees pushed their way past Shoyou as he kept pace with Kenma, who was normally a lot slower.

A lot slower.

He wondered in which ways the Academy would change him.

By one of the high tables sat a man with a heavy book in hand. On the table in front of him he’d stacked various books and paper arcs, folders and rolls. He seemed deep in thought as they approached; dark eyes scanning the content so intensely it created deep creases in his otherwise fine skin. He seemed incredibly young; perhaps late thirties—but wore a dark blue coat above his standard, black, Night Academy robe that they all wore—which indicated he was of high ranking.

Kenma motioned for Shoyou to put the books on the table as he turned to address him.

“Professor Akaashi, your books,” he spoke softly and clasped his hands behind his back. Shoyou thought it made him seem like his old, 15-year old, innocent self whenever he acted so sweet and gentle.

The man—Professor Akaashi—flinched and flickered his eyes up to meet Kenma’s, “Ah, sorry,” he said, voice sweeter than honey, “Was there any trouble in receiving the delivery?” he asked, and redirected his focus on the newly-delivered pile.

“No, mister,” he said, “It went smoothly. Though I received some help in carrying the material,” he added and turned to point at Shoyou.

He bowed deeply towards Professor Akaashi, “It’s an honor, mister,” he greeted, courtly, and watched professor Akaashi’s lips break into a gentle simile once he straightened.

“My,” he said, “Bringing in people from outside left and right.” It had been directed at Kenma, who blushed at the pretend disapproval from his mentor.

“What’s your name, child?” he asked and Shoyou sighed as Kenma choked back a laugh. Professor Akaashi appeared visibly confused.

_Curse Shoyou and his stupid genes. _

He coughed, “I’m no child, mister. My name is Hinata Shoyou. I’m twenty-two years old,” he said and tried to ignore the rising heat in his face as professor Akaashi slapped a hand over his gaping mouth and Kenma stifled yet another laughing fit.

“I’m so sorry!” he said, “I just went and assumed… God…”

Shoyou really was a busser, wasn’t he.

“Na, that’s alright, mister. I’m used to it. Can’t fault you, really!”

Professor Akaashi rubbed the bridge of his nose between two fingers before sighing and sending Shoyou an apologetic smile through dark lashes. Shoyou dimly noted that he was quite a sight and blushed at his own, vulgar thoughts.

_Christ. He was really starting to lose his mind. _

He cleared his throat, “I’m sorry for bothering you, but could I ask if it would be alright to search through some books here? I’ve heard this library holds plenty of valuable information. I’ll stay off anything top secret, I promise! I just want some information on werewolf history,” he said, eyeing the professor carefully.

Professor Akaashi smiled, “Alright. What do you need that information for? Haven’t they taught you all you need to know in school?” came the natural question.

Shoyou came prepared for this. He’d had the long road of reaching the Academy with two aching arms to think up an excuse.

“Well, you see mister, I recently heard of an impressively large werewolf that’d bitten off the fingers of a fellow nightchaser, and I grew curious of where they came from and such. Though I didn’t get much answer from master Ikkei.”

Rule number one of interrogation; stay as true to the real story as possible but leave out any and all details unnecessary for the interrogator to know. Shoyou felt quite proud of his little white lie.

Professor Akaashi brightened, “Master Ikkei?” he asked, “So he’s taken you under his wing, I see. Well then. A student of master Ikkei is a student of mine. What do you want to know? Perhaps I can be of help?”

Shoyou couldn’t believe his luck. He’d expected to get permission, but he’d never expected a professor of the Night Academy to willingly teach him anything he needed to know without second thought.

He readied himself for a long night as he sat down opposite of professor Akaashi and began speaking.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

_Take a look in the mirror._  
What do you see?  
Do you see it clearer, or are you deceived in what you believe?

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Shoyou spent the following days holed up in the Night Academy Library with professor Akaashi, who’d told him to come in the evenings right after supper when he was off duty for the day.

They’d spend hours sorting through dusty books and worn folders to no real avail, and by the time Shoyou was at home in bed the sun would just begin to rise over the horizon.

To make matters worse, the more he read up on werewolves and how incredibly fascinating those creatures truly were, the less he felt like killing them.

Not that he had; he sucked too much to do that, still. But he’d had a handful of opportunities to do so where instead he’d fled, only to then conjure up a fake story of how clumsy he was when he met with the other nightchasers at dawn.

He feared they’d started suspecting something but brushed it aside in favor of concentrating on his studies. He’d spent so much time in the Library that he’d been granted a Night Academy robe to borrow for the time being by professor Akaashi, who insisted he wore it to blend in better and not raise suspicion.

“I’m starting to believe there’s a deeper reason for your unusual interest in werewolves, Hinata-kun,” he said to Shoyou one cold night as they rummaged through yet another shelf in the far corner of the Library.

Shoyou froze on the spot. He could feel all blood leave his face and fingers and rush to his thrumming heart.

“Wh—what do you mean? I have no specific reason, just curious, is all, mister…” he fumbled.

But professor Akaashi caught onto his bluff.

What surprised Shoyou wasn’t that he’d known all along, or that he’d let Shoyou search for so long despite it. What surprised him was that professor Akaashi smiled warmly at him.

“Call me Akaashi-san,” he said, softly, and turned to face Shoyou fully, “And I might have exactly what you look for, but I have to make sure I’m getting the correct picture here first. If you want to know so badly, Hinata-kun, you’ll have to be honest and tell me the complete truth. Think you could do that?” he asked.

Shoyou didn’t know how to respond. He wanted to know more than anything what exactly Kageyama had implied, that night, when he told Shoyou he knew nothing of _their side_ of the story. The story being the source of interest here, that is.

He knew what the Academy had taught him, albeit through master Ikkei. He knew werewolves made their appearance suddenly and unprompted on a rainy full-moon hundreds of years ago and that they’d grown in number and severity since. He knew they were ruthless in their killings, resilient beyond all seven hells, and more intelligent than any animal out there. Aside from that, and the specifics of their anatomy and how best to hunt and kill them, he hadn’t been taught much. It seemed the story of werewolves was one sided at best and falsified at worst. To make matters more complicated; cruel and inhumane were terms he’d started tying to the Nightchaser tradition of fang-threading. Meaning he was growing sympathetic to the creatures, despite Kageyama’s terrible personality. He was finally beginning to understand, to carve a path for himself, when it’d all gotten turned on its head the night of his first hunt when he came face to face with a wounded werewolf.

A werewolf whom he’d started referring to by name and pronouns.

He looked at prof—_Akaashi-san _and tried to will his nerves to calm as he held his gaze. There was nothing behind those calm seas that spoke of treachery or ill-wish. Akaashi-san seemed genuinely willing to hear him out and grant him a well of unlimited knowledge—judging by his words on the matter.

He couldn’t know for sure whether this man was trustworthy enough, but he felt deep within himself that there was no need to fear him. And a person not deemed to fear is a person worthy of trust in Shoyou’s book.

He breathed, “Okay,” he said, “I’ll tell you, but not here, please, Akaashi-san.”

The professor nodded and lead him to one of the many rooms lining the corridor outside. It was a small study, alight with candles and drowned in all sorts of objects. Posters of werewolf anatomy lined the walls and covered the door on the inside from top to bottom. Shoyou caught himself staring at the display on the right side of the room; bottles and glass vials containing strange liquids, eyes, fangs, organs and a plethora of other strange things. He was speechless; staring in awe at the grotesque lineup.

Akaashi-san came up behind him, “Ah, those,” he started and cleared his throat, “There’s a story to it deeper than what you see on the surface. I’ll tell it to you, once I’ve made sure you are what I think you are,” he said, lowering his voice to almost a whisper. Shoyou would bet his words would get completely muted by the white noise of the rain coming down outside, were anyone to eavesdrop on their conversation from the corridor.

It had been raining non-stop for weeks, with the occasional cloudy morning, and would probably continue to do so until first snowfall. Miyagi season changes were known for their brutality.

It’d been a while since he’d last seen Kageyama. Shoyou distantly caught himself wondering what he was doing right then, as the rain was pouring out of the sky.

“And what do you think I am?” he asked, hesitantly, begging for it not to be _‘a turncoat’ _or _’a beast lover´ _or something along those lines.

A sudden surge of panic overtook him and made his knees shake in a burst of weakness. What if Akaashi had plotted something against him? If he’d been suspicious all along, as he’d made obvious, perhaps this was his big moment where he revealed to Shoyou that he had him where he couldn’t flee.

“A Moonfighter, at heart,” he said instead.

Shoyou blanched.

“Sorry. A _what _now?” he asked. Had he tried to call him a nightchaser? But surely, he knew of that already? Shoyou thought that common knowledge, since he told him the day they first met.

The professor laughed heartily at Shoyou’s visible confusion. “A Moonchaser,” he repeated, “A rebel of the crown and its ways,” he explained, as if that would help Shoyou understand.

He was at a loss. _A rebel force standing up against the crown? _Could he be talking about the uprising of the werewolves? But wasn’t that a werewolf-specific thing? Were humans part of it, too?

He asked as much, to which Akaashi-san smiled.

“Ah, so you are sympathetic,” he stated. Shoyou flushed from head to toe in shame.

“Please don’t tell anyone,” he begged. Akaashi-san’s features softened as he turned and sat down on the large couch.

“Fear not, your secret’s safe with me,” he said and patted his left pocket lightly. “The rebel force; they call themselves Moonfighters. You know, since they’re standing on the side of the werewolves so dependent on the moon and its shine.”

An owl landed with a soft _bump_ on the windowsill to Akaashi-san’s right. He smiled, though not exactly at anything in particular other than the idea he spoke of.

“They’re people, fighting for creatures so unlike them that most aren’t even aware of their transformation abilities,” he said, “But they see cruelty, and they stand against it.”

“Cruelty?” Shoyou asked.

Akaashi-san turned his way, and the owl on the window hooted so that it echoed in the room. The sound bounced strangely in its confides; as if the rain outside served to block it and lock it to the space they sat in.

“Yes, Hinata-kun,” he said, and the smile fell off his face, “Cruelty. In its purest form. Plain and simple human cruelty.”

His hand carded softly through the soft black hair and made its curls stand up proudly.

“So, yes. The uprising you speak of; that’s the Moonfighter army and their fight against cruelty. A growing number of humans sympathetic to them are joining the ruse.”

Shoyou looked at him, where he sat in the glow of candles. _Really _looked at him.

“Are you a Moonfighter, Akaashi-san?” he asked.

“Yes,” he replied, and leaned back in his seat, “And I’m proud of it. The question here is, are you? Hinata-kun?”

He smiled something hesitant and hooked his pinkies in front of himself like a child getting scolded, “Not formally,” he said, “But I feel like there’s more to the story. Things I haven’t been told; that are kept hidden from me. It’s the reason I’m here. I wanna know what really went on throughout history to make the two races hate each other so, and what’s still happening to prevent them from agreeing to peace.”

It felt strangely uplifting to speak to someone who shared his ideas and understood the reasoning for his actions, despite not having voiced them to Akaashi-san as bluntly as he’d voiced them to Kenma and Suga-san. Something in Akaashi-san’s eyes told him he didn’t have to. The professor understood fully.

He nodded, “I see.”

“So will you continue helping me? To look?” he asked.

“I’ll do more than that, Hinata-kun,” he said, “I believe I have information you’d find more valuable than gold. Information not so easily accessible to anyone but professors and magisters,” he grinned and raised an arm for the owl to land on gracefully. Shoyou watched in awe. “Luckily for you, I happen to have the key to that, too,” he said.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Really proud of this one, actually. It's all coming together  
(evil wizard laughter)  
Can't wait for the shit to hit the fan


	4. to Face the Sun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to take this time out to remind people to check the tags.  
Specifically for the "to be added" tag which has now resulted in a "character death" tag.

The night everything turned he followed Akaashi-san down the long corridor. At its southern end a curved door stood proud and old, wooden and chipped and ruined by mold and age. Akaashi-san fished out a large, golden key out of his robe and opened the heavy thing to reveal a staircase; much like in the hundreds of horror stories Shoyou had heard, he couldn’t see anything but flickering lights that lined the walls in the descent, and vague contours of each step.

They descended the steps for so long Shoyou started getting nauseous. His nerves were kicking in rapidly, with each new step into the abyss where no sound would bounce to the surface. The further down they went, the quieter it got. The thick walls caged them and gave little room for echo.

Finally, they reached an opening. Bright light inside made Shoyou squint and shield his eyes from the onslaught. He’d spent so long in the dim-lit staircase that the many oil-lamps and candles from the only entrance before them fried his retinas.

Inside were books. Books and rolls and a million objects of varying levels of value. Rusty toolkits, heaps of firewood, an assortment of… toothbrushes?

Akaashi-san followed his intrigued gaze. “Ah, the toothbrushes,” he said and walked up to the overstuffed desk—or what was left of it beneath all the stuff, “It’s an interesting finding. Hidden from the public eye, of course, but it’s quite tragic if you ask me.”

“What’s the story?” Shoyou asked as his eyes continued their journey, roaming over bottles, vases and boxes of all sizes and all states of decay.

“Well,” the professor started, voice a low mumble that sang with absolute clarity in the small space, “They found—some fifty years ago—that werewolves smuggled toothbrushes into their cells. Toothbrushes. Of all things they could smuggle they chose toothbrushes? Don’t you find that strange?” he asked.

Shoyou turned to look at him, “I guess. Why? Do we know?”

Akaashi-san averted his gaze, back to the task of cleaning dust off an old folder, “Because the act of brushing their teeth was something they missed in those cells. They’re always treated like dogs, Hinata-kun, but even if we were to see them with the eyes of one of the hound-trainers we’d have to acknowledge their intelligence. They weren’t dogs. What’s worse, this act proved them more civil, more _human_, than we’d previously thought,” he said, so low it almost came out as a whisper.

“They just wanted basic hygiene. To care for their rotting teeth.”

Shoyou shivered. The professor’s eyes were glassy and unfocused, trailing the movement of slim fingers as they traced the document in his hand. “Perhaps this will help you understand, Hinata-kun,” he said and handed him the files.

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

_Recent experiments have concluded the rise of a sub-category of hounds._

_At the moment of writing this document, I am uncertain as to how t̷̨̖̽̅h̵͇̯̞͆̿͝i̵̯̾̊s̷̮͉͠ ̷͖̇n̶͓͉͋e̷̜̤͛̋̈́w̵̢̛͓̠̔ ̴̡͕̝̓g̵͎̏̎r̶̡̙͑͒̓ỏ̶̤u̷̮͐̊͑p̶̘͇̮̕ ̵͓i̶̞̫͚̅̎̄s̶̯͗̈́ ̶̧̱͓͝c̶̣͋̓͘l̴͕̫̋̊a̷̘̣s̷̟̀̋̐s̶̪̓̅̓i̵̛̮͚̜̐͒f̷̜̘͆i̵̤̳͉͝ẹ̸̣̲̌͘ḏ̸̟̲̋̐͂._

_Key characteristics appear to be c̶̨̻̄l̶̳̓͐̚ë̴͍̺́a̷̧͎͎͌̕͝r̷̟̼̰̈́̚ ̸̞͊͑b̸͈̟̐i̷̛̬o̸̞̩͙̕l̵͚͆̍o̸̩͂g̸̨̻̥͂i̷̹̻̅̀c̶̞͒̐a̵̫͓͑ļ̷̫͓͌͝differences, often as jarring a̶͕̓̀s̶̼̩̭̃̅̐ ̶͎̳͛̓t̴̻̍̓̈́ḧ̵̠ȩ̵̞̱͑ bred hound being b̸̛͜ĭ̵̫͉͠r̴͙̃̂̓t̴͎̲͋h̶̤͘ě̴̠̏̔d̷̪͗ ̵̦̹͝a̵̘̓̒s̸̥̫̭̈̆ ̸͍͉̪̚a̸̘̘͛n̶̠͆ö̴͉̰́ț̷͑h̸͔͍͌ȇ̶͖̞͓͘r̷̛̝̽̎ species i̸̫̗̪̊̍ṇ̸̝̟̊͋͐ ̷̾̓͜i̵̞͂̇̃t̵̻̳͙̊̍͠s̸̲̭̅ͅ entirety._

_Often canine, sometimes feline._

_No larger aversion h̵̰̳̰͂̿a̶͍̬͒̍͒ͅv̴̺̌e̵̬̜̺̅̓ ̴͙̪̇͛͒ͅỵ̷̜̣̌̿ē̸̬͕̞̓͋t̶͔̰̐͒ ̵̫̺͆͜ḁ̴̢̡̐̀r̷͇̱̙͒̈́̈́i̵̜̦̫͝s̵̠͑ȩ̷͚̃̈́͋n̶̢̒̉, though the o̴͚̩̅̓͠p̵̻̟̫̓̕t̵̝̜̀͌i̵̼͠o̶̻͛̃͝ņ̵̛̉̌ remains open for d̵̰͋̋̎ï̷̞͈̻s̴͎̺͙̐̆c̵͕͕͖̒u̴̩̭̟͆̚ş̷͇̋̆̽s̵̗̈́͑i̵̳͘͘o̴̥̊̔n̷̙̔̋͝ ̶̤͓̤̉̓a̵͎͑̕n̶͇̭̻̐̊d̷̗̪̖̂̆̋ further ȅ̴̛̤̣͇͇̗̐̏̋̚͠v̴̧̨͓̲̮̜̿ä̶͈̯̼͙̣́̿̽͋͐̑̇̓͘͜͠ͅḻ̴͍͌̑̇̏͛̚̕ų̵̹̳̃̾͋̍̋̔̅̎̚a̴̙̫͎͊̔̈ṱ̶̻͇̦̼̎͆ͅi̵̠͙̬̖͕̝̊̈́̒̈́̅͐͗̆ơ̵̫͔̟̯͎͑̓̀͂̐̊̒͒͗ņ̷̯͓͚̥̟͉̜͕̟̔̎̔̋̍̀̾̍̕̚._

✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧⋄⋆⋅⋆⋄✧

The rest of the document was completely unreadable. Torn and dirty and worn beyond its years. As if it’d been in the hands of many. Or perhaps it’d only been in the hands of one professor who couldn’t keep from holding it. But Shoyou had questions.

“What does this mean?” he asked.

The professor’s eyes remained stuck on the folder in Shoyou’s hands as he spoke, “What this document is saying is that they managed to breed a brand new sub-category of werewolves,” he said and tore his gaze away to instead let it wander frantically over the dusty shelves, “This sub-category, however, turned out worse than the original hounds, and so they were discarded. Thrown out onto the streets and, consequently, ripped from their families in the cells of the training facility.”

Shoyou watched him work in utter bafflement.

“They _threw out babies _on the street?” he asked, perhaps a little louder than intended, and got hushed as a consequence.

“Yes! But they pretended like they weren’t! That’ the problem,” Akaashi-san’s hand stilled on a thick book and pulled it out of its webbed corner. He blew on the cover and a puff of grey swiveled into the air. Shoyou tried to hold off a sneeze by pinching his nose.

His voice came out nasally as he asked, “What was this sub-category?”

“Fellies,” he simply said, and set the heavy book on the table between them. Papers and pens and vials flew out everywhere, making room for the heavy object, and fell to the stone floor.

“_Fellies?”_

“That’s what they called them,” he said, “But since the project was dropped almost as quickly as it’d begun, no one has bothered to come up with a better name,” he explained as he flipped through pages upon pages of text. To Shoyou’s amateur eyes it looked like gibberish, but he knew what it was the moment he saw it.

Arlonian. The language of the witches.

Akaashi-san cleared his throat, leaned over the book with hands on each side of it, and began reading:

_“My intentions had been clear. I hadn’t intended for it to go the way it did. Nonetheless, Mr. Himura came to announce the end of the project. That all the beings are to be discarded. I’m beyond agonizing over the loss. Such gentle, innocent beings; torn from their homes and cast into streets where they’re surely to pass a horrible death.”_

He glanced up at Shoyou, who could do nothing but gape as the professor flipped a few pages, to the last few of the book, and continued:

_“This will certainly be my last update. I’m to write down my findings in this, after all, and these findings are only part of the project. Lately there’s been an influx of house-pets around town. I don’t assume it’s something headquarters has noticed, but a walk through town is all it takes to understand. If my theory is correct, then perhaps it’s a joyous finding, but it seems to me as if the abandoned beings have been taken into the care of unknowing families. A truly joyous news, I hope, even for headquarters.”_

Shoyou watched him close the large book, confused to no end.

“Wait… Fellies are… house pets?” he asked.

“No,” the professor said, “But the many cats and dogs you’ve seen around town are very likely fellies. Not that the families know. If they did, they’d surely either kill them or cause a riot. They’re living with werewolves, after all,” he said.

“Can they… turn?” Shoyou asked.

“They can, but they won’t. Their lives depend on them being hidden by their disguise. I can’t imagine how taxing it must be on the poor creatures.”

Akaashi-san returned the heavy book to where it’d been and turned to instead file through letters and documents on the other side of the room.

“Taxing?”

He started feeling like a broken record at this point. For every word the professor uttered, Shoyou just added a question mark to the end of it.

“Yes,” he said, “Taxing. It takes a lot of energy for werewolves to remain turned at all times.”

Shoyou’s confusion must have shown on his face, because the professor laughed and stilled in what he was doing.

“I know. It’s confusing. To put it very simply, the only reason they exist is because of the curse, and the curse makes life a suffer for them. During the day, they’re cursed to live in fatigue if they remain turned, and if they don’t turn at night they’re doomed to live in excruciating pain. It’s a vicious cycle and a curse to the marrow.”

Shoyou’s mind chose that moment to conjure up an image of Kuroo, lying idly in Kenma’s lap—watching. The intensity in those eyes, the way they would track Shoyou’s every movement.

“I think I’ve seen one, up close,” he muttered.

Akaashi-san brushed dust off another book and turned it in his hands, reading over the swirly inscriptions on the leather cover.

“Hmm. That you sure have,” he whispered, then held up the book for Shoyou to see, “This; it was written in Arlonian a few thousand years ago.”

Shoyou followed the swirls and twists of the looped letters inscribed in the center of the cover. They barely glimmered, but he could tell the inscriptions had been written in liquid gold.

He stepped closer and took the leather-bound book from the professor, who eyed him quietly.

“When did you learn Arlonian?” he asked, eyes stuck on the thin pages and the even thinner, black letters on them. _Symbols? _

“Let’s just say I know a guy,” he secretively answered, before taking the Arlonian book from Shoyou and flipping open a page towards the middle.

“There’s a section here that describes a curse. My knowledge in Arlonian only goes so far, so I’ve not managed to translate it yet. It’s intricate enough to make me suspect that it had been written even longer ago than this work.” His fingers ran ghostly over the inscribed symbols, barely touching the surface of the page, and the thick brows above his eyes were furrowed in thought.

“I’m guessing it’s describing the Hound Curse, but I’m not sure,” he finished and punctuated his statement by slamming the book shut, “I’m afraid I can’t tell you much there, but if there’s anything else you want to know, you can always ask me. I might have an answer.”

Shoyou nodded in thanks and watched him as he milled about the crammed room, sorting objects, filing documents and ordering books. Dusting off layers of thick grey and removing silky spider webs.

“Has it been a long time since you were last down here?” he asked and plopped down in the chair behind the desk. It squawked loudly and Shoyou feared he’d broken something when a _crack _sounded in the silence.

Akaashi-san continued pacing and sorting as he spoke, “Well, I actually very rarely venture down here. I wouldn’t wanna raise suspicions. Usually I collect anything I deem necessary to keep down here, which isn’t very often, especially not with the way headquarters have been censoring and burning materials relevant to the Moonfighters.”

“Are you the only one…?”

The professor sighed and slumped his shoulders, “Unfortunately,” he said, “I know there’s many of us, but as far as I know I’m the only academic in town tied to the rebellion.”

Shoyou nodded in understanding.

The air in the room had turned hollow and stifling all at once, and he realized that a familiar weight of shame had settled on his head. It strained the muscles in his neck; tense and taut as they were.

They continued searching and reading in the lamplight well into midnight. For every document Shoyou read he realized just how vile the things the Academy were doing were. Terrible, horrible, torturous things.

He parted ways with Akaashi-san on a promise to reach out were he to need help, and a stiff bow in thanks to the professor’s time, patience and resources. Akaashi-san brushed him off and told him to head to bed, but Shoyou couldn’t rest.

The anxious jitters in his legs wouldn’t let up, and his hands were so clammy that the chill night-air outside made them numb from cold. So, he did the only logical thing. He stomped his way to the forest and trotted some land there for an hour or two, looking in vain for a familiar, lumbering beast.

He had no luck, it seemed, so that night he crawled back underneath his covers still shivering from something other than the cold.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

The case of the Graverobber hadn’t gotten any better. The Nightchasers still struggled with locating the damn werewolf, and graves around town kept getting emptied one after the other.

Tensions at Headquarters were at an all time high, and the many chasers looked to be walking on eggshells around one another. A single needle drop was enough to have the herd thundering away and going completely berserk.

He’d noticed Kindaichi’s eyes were trained on him more often than usual. Originally, he’d brushed it off as him being annoyed with him; Shoyou hadn’t gotten a single kill in since his first day at the tower months ago yet had someone managed to keep his position in the Tower.

This morning, too, as Shoyou lumbered his way back to the Tower still sporting no tooth on his thread, Kindaichi’s fiery gaze was glued onto him. He knew what was coming before it even happened, before Kindaichi had even taken so much as a single step in his general direction.

The enraged chaser approached him on thundering feet, “Don’t think I’m not onto you, Hinata,” he growled, loud enough for the whole crowd to silence. Shoyou held his ground as best he could. He’d been expecting something like this for a long time now. He was surprised he’d made it as far as he had.

“It’s been _months, _and you _still _don’t have a single kill on your neck. Are you conspiring?” he gritted.

Shoyou frowned, “Conspiring? Against whom? The Academy?” he scoffed, “Listen, I may not be great at this, but that doesn’t make me a traitor!”

His fists, where they hung clenched by his sides, shook awfully. He hoped the others wouldn’t notice.

“Oh, really? That’s what this is? A lack of skill, huh?” he mocked and cocked his head, “Tell me, then, why you’ve been spending so much time at the Night Academy, sneaking off with one of the staff and staying all through the night? Are you gonna tell me you’re having an affair with one of the professors?” he pushed.

Shoyou blanched. _Had he been spying on them?_ Chances were, he had. Shoyou wracked his brain around a reply, anything remotely believable, and prayed to whatever ruled above that his mortification didn’t show on his face as clearly as he felt it.

He tried for another scoff, but it came out sounding more like a choked noise, “An affair? With whom, professor Akaashi? Are you insane?” he asked and watched as the nightchasers around them whispered amongst themselves, “No, it’s not like that. Akaashi-san simply agreed to help me improve my knowledge on the… hounds. If I can’t make up for practical experience, I can at least stack my theoretical knowledge, right?”

Master Ukai crossed his arms behind Kindaichi. Shoyou’s half-lie hadn’t hit home fully. He decided to use the last trick he had up his sleeve—bringing himself down.

“And, I mean,” he laughed self-deprecatingly, “We’ve all noticed that I’m really behind on that, too, right? Besides, I’m not the greatest student, so, yeah, I’ve had to spend a copious number of hours at the Night Academy studying under professor Akaashi.”

Kindaichi didn’t seem to happy with his lie, which Shoyou considered a win. Maser Ukai uncrossed his arms and walked up to them.

“If that’s the case, Shrimpy, I hope to see results of all that learning real soon. Don’t make me suspect you of all people,” he said and patted Shoyou’s shoulder as he passed.

Shoyou breathed a sigh of relief. He’d survived, for now, but he knew problems awaited him.

-

In the inner pocket of his jacket he felt around with gentle fingertips for the document he’d taken from Akaashi-san’s office.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

His visits with Kageyama were few and far in between. The stubborn beast was insufferable to no end and insisted on acting cold and distant with him.

Shoyou snuck out of his own house for the hundredth night that night, and into the forest uphill—behind the stone wall surrounding town. He was hoping on better luck tonight. To every degree to which Kageyama was stubbornly distant, Shoyou was stubbornly persistent. He would get him to like him, he’d sworn to that.

Anytime they’d meet, Kageyama would remain silent. Most of the time he met him as a werewolf, which meant no talking at all, just a lot of Shoyou fawning over his size and fur and claws and fangs.

_He was an interesting creature, alright, and Shoyou had never seen one that big before. Sue him._

This night, like many before, left him empty handed. Kageyama was nowhere to be seen.

Shoyou cursed him lowly under his breath and watched as the profanities puffed into the air in a cloud of white. Fall had crept up on them suddenly and without warning, turning warm sunlight into cloudy skies and never-ending rain, and Shoyou’s nose was currently taking the hard end of it; rosy and cold-bitten as it was, stuffed behind layers of cloth.

The forest in fall was quieter than usual, if even possible, which meant every single step he took put him at risk. He’d wandered the Hound Forest many times in these past few months, and despite the looming threat his anxieties over getting attacked had drastically diminished after his encounter with Kageyama, though he still felt uneasy walking beneath the clear night-sky. The forest around him breathed in tandem with the occasional rustle of leaves, and the crunch of his feet on dry leaves.

He’d been walking for a while by the time he spotted a clearing up ahead, leading into—

Into one of the graveyards.

These ones, abandoned as they were, served as burial grounds for outlaws and criminals mostly. A lump of worry nestled itself in his stomach, and Shoyou gulped for more of that frigid October air. A pattern leading up to one of the graves proved to him what he’d feared the most; a werewolf had passed these parts recently.

The warm, large prints of heavy paws lead up to one of the open graves. He couldn’t see anything more from where he was standing, but he could _hear _it in the deafening silence.

Crunching, sloshy sounds; like someone—or something—biting into flesh and bone.

The silent forest of death behind him suddenly seemed a lot more inviting, but his stupid legs wouldn’t move. He was close to something, that much was clear, and if his knowledge of werewolves told him anything it was that those pawprints were the trail of a werewolf.

Shoyou was by no means gifted in the brains department, but even he knew how to put two and two together.

He was perhaps ten or so feet from the Graverobber.

His tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth anytime he tried to swallow, and the lump in his stomach grew bigger and heavier as each moment passed. Was he chomping down the corpse of some freshly buried criminal? Did Shoyou even want to know? His mind was screaming for him to go back and forget, but his body wouldn’t listen. That unquenchable curiosity inside him made him take another step forward. With fright chilling his bones from within, he got baby-step by baby-step closer to the gaping hole in the ground.

He took another step, but the moment his foot touched ground a low whimper filled the hollow silence of the graveyard. Another whimper followed, then a growl, and it kept going like that as each noise rose in intensity and volume. Whatever was down there, was in immense pain.

A howl pierced the night, but it sounded nothing like a werewolf. No, this was a shout of pain and it came from a human being.

Shoyou’s blood ran cold as ice, and in an instead he unsheathed his knife and leapt forward; ready to save whoever had been captured by the beast and nibbled on like a tasty treat.

But when Shoyou got close enough to see down the hole, he didn’t find a writhing, mangled human fighting for life, nor did he find a werewolf bent over the corpse of a long-forgotten townsperson.

He found a young man, around his age, curled up into a ball in the far corner of the rectangular space. There was no corpse next to him, not even a coffin. It was an empty grave, probably prepped for the next poor inhabitant.

The whimpering stopped, and the man looked up to meet Shoyou’s wide eyes.

He was met with a freckled face so gentle it rivaled a flower’s petals. Big, hazel eyes stared back in mortification, and dusty brown hair flicked every way in a whirlwind of youthfulness.

“Hi,” Shoyou breathed, and hid his knife as he spoke, all hostility blown out the window, “My name is Hinata Shoyou,” he whispered, “Sorry I startled you, I thought you were getting attacked… do you need help getting up? Are you hurt? Did you fall in?” he asked and reached down a hand towards the malnourished thing shivering in the cold.

The freckled man stared at him from the darkness. His eyes followed the pattern of Shoyou’s pants until they reached the sewn in emblem of the Miyagi Nightchasers. He stilled, then, and bit his lip.

“I don’t wanna have to hurt you,” he rasped.

Shoyou quirked a brow, urging him to explain.

He took a deep, rattling breath, and Shoyou listened to the horrendous state of his lungs. Who knew how long this guy had been out here, in the mud and muck.

A scattering of freckles twisted into something hesitant, vary—if he dares say—before a shaky hand slowly revealed itself and inched closer to Shoyou’s outstretched palm.

He grabbed on tight and pulled with all his might. It took some maneuvering but after a minute or two the man was out of the empty grave, staring at Shoyou with that same mortified gaze.

It was then that the moonlight hit him just so, and allowed for Shoyou to fully see him. He was malnourished beyond doubt; all hollow cheeks and sunken eyes. His hair, which was once presumably a warm brown mess, had lost its luster. It hung in greasy strings around his face. He worse nothing but a layer or two of tattered, dirty rags, and his feet were left bare for the unforgiving weather. Shoyou could see dark-violet patches on the tips of his toes and nose; frostbite.

“Christ…” he muttered, astounded to breathlessness, and reached out a hand to brush hair behind his equally bitten ear. The man flinched as if he’d expected a punch, despite being a good head taller than Shoyou.

“I’m sorry!” he hurriedly apologized, “But I promise I’m not gonna hurt you! What’s your name?” he asked.

He seemed to ponder Shoyou’s question; searching his face for something Shoyou didn’t know. A moment of silence passed, until he took a deep breath—decidedly having found whatever it’d been he’d been looking for.

“Yamaguchi… Tadashi…” he whispered.

Shoyou watched a shiver wrack his posture, and his shoulders shudder with the aftershock of it. Cold winds blew through the fabric of his scarf as Shoyou slowly unveiled it and flung it over Yamaguchi’s head.

“Hmm. How old are you, Yamaguchi? Do you live nearby?”

Next, his gloves. Yamaguchi stared in wonder at Shoyou’s casual humbleness.

“Twenty-two…” he said, so quietly Shoyou barely heard him over the rush of wind.

He took off his shoes, and then his socks—the latter of which he handed to Yamaguchi, who only stared at the two cloths in his hand.

“Take them,” he ordered, “I’ll keep my shoes, though!” he laughed, trying for friendly as he bent to tie his boots.

Yamaguchi didn’t say a word. He put on Shoyou’s socks in silence. Shoyou wished he could give him more. Surely two flimsy socks wouldn’t save his poor feet, but what happened next sent him reeling into a state of absolute shock.

Yamaguchi’s freckled face glistened with heavy tear-tracks.

“Yama—”

“I don’t have one,” he sniveled.

“Have a what?” Shoyou asked, hands twitching to hold onto him and assure him that everything would be fine.

“A home!” he hickuped and crumbled inward. Along with Shoyou’s heart.

Of course he didn’t have a home. How foolish of him to even ask something like that, considering the state he’d found him in. Still, some part of him had hoped that this world wasn’t that cruel. That a man so young had a place to stay, crappy or not. How naïve.

But Yamaguchi wasn’t done.

“I can’t believe you’re so nice to me considering the things I’ve done! Don’t you see who I am?” he asked, voice still an octave too high to be considered conversational.

Shoyou watched the labored rise and fall of his chest and followed the gentle sway of his shoulders. He was barely standing on his feet.

“I’m the guy the nightchasers have been looking for all this time! Shouldn’t you be arresting me? Killing me? Please do something!” he pleaded and fell to the ground before Shoyou; with his forehead to the dirt and his hands clasped above his head.

“Please! Kill me! Shoot me! Arrest me! Anything! I can’t go on like this! I can’t do this anymore! I tried for so long so hard not to kill! I don’t wanna kill! But I can’t do this anymore! It hurts! It hurts so damn much!”

Two frozen, soft hands settled shakily on Shoyou’s muddied boots. A lump in Shoyou’s throat told him his voice wouldn’t hold if he tried to speak, so he crouched down instead and dragged a palm through that chestnut head.

Yamaguchi’s cries rang through the desolate graveyard, and between the stones of people he had no choice but to disgrace in order to survive.

He understood everything now. The pain, the suffering, the torture. The blatant lies the Academy and the Nightchasers had been filling his head with for so many years. He still had no clue what the rebellion really was, or what the curse truly meant, but if Yamaguchi’s frostbitten limbs and tattered shirt screamed anything it had to be betrayal. Betrayal and discrimination. Abandoned and forgotten, despised, by society. By humans.

How was he to help him? Could he even? He wanted to, more than anything. The brumal air seeped into his shoes and enveloped his toes, and in that biting frigidness he understood how much Yamaguchi must have suffered.

The whimpering died down, and all that was left in its wake was a shivering body so fragile and broken.

“Yamaguchi?” he whispered, but the freckled boy at his feet didn’t budge.

He grabbed a hold of a skinny shoulder; felt the bone rub against his thumb and turned him on his back. With his face to the sky.

It was tradition, in their town, to let the dying meet death facing the sun. Shoyou had no sun to give Yamaguchi as he mumbled to nothing and hacked through each pained breath, but he could give him the moon he so dutifully and involuntarily served under.

“Tell me about yourself,” he said and held his cheeks between his palms.

Yamaguchi inhaled. Each second, each bit of air rattled his lungs so hard Shoyou could feel it vibrate his thighs where his head rested.

“I was the son of a shepherd in a Kurihara... we lived a…” he stalled, breathing heavily. A single tear rolled down to a blue, bitten ear, “…a modest life. Had a farm, animals, crops,” he chuckled, “Sheep.”

Shoyou looked into his eyes as he spoke, dared to keep his gaze steadily set on the wide eyed being crumbling to dust in his lap. He swallowed.

“I had a friend, too,” he continued, “A neighbor…” another breath, “He was pretty awesome. Saved me from the watchmaker’s boys once… pretty badass…”

His voice wavered, and Shoyou used the opportunity to wipe a stray tear before it managed to drop. Yamaguchi smiled at him. Barely a crack in his skin, but a smile, nonetheless. All eyes and soul.

“He taught me that there were good people, too… That not all humans… were evil…” he rasped on, “And that some things are worth fighting for… like myself. I guess no one… had ever told me that before…”

The tears had long stopped falling. What remained were the tracks left in the dirty skin. Shoyou watched all strength leave him. Watched his lungs collapse every time he took a breath.

“I regret many things… Hinata Shoyou…but I don’t regret meeting you tonight… even though you didn’t…kill me as I asked…” he said, “Sorry,” he laughed, “That… I was so embarrassing.”

It sounded more like a plea of forgiveness from himself, for himself. It pained to hear, it pained to see, but Shoyou knew he would never be able to sleep at night ever again if he left Yamaguchi to leave this earth as alone as he’d spent his last few months on it.

“I’m sorry I caused trouble… I didn’t mean to… disrespect…”

A leave from above swayed its way downwards. It fell by his feet, now clad in Shoyou’s mismatched socks. He realized like a shot through the heart for whom that grave had been dug. He didn’t want Yamaguchi to go like this.

“I just needed food… and my body… this _curse…_wouldn’t let me live off anything but meat… and I didn’t… wanna take someone else’s cattle…”

There were so many things for him left to see, to do. Shoyou wanted to show him what humans could do. How kind people could be. He wanted to bring him home to his mom’s cooking, and Natsu’s contagious smile. He wanted to introduce him to Kenma and Kuroo, and to watch him grow into that sunken skin of his.

Yamaguchi’s eyelids fluttered. Shoyou’s damn finally broke.

“I’m sorry, Tadashi,” he whispered against the wobble in his lip, “I’m so sorry you have to go like this. I’m sorry you can’t be with your family, and that your last days on Earth gave you nothing but cruelty.”

He put a lock of brown hair behind his other ear, and watched those freckles move in tandem with Yamaguchi’s gaping mouth—gasping for his last breath.

Then, he smiled at Shoyou, and Shoyou’s whole world tilted off its axis.

“It’s alright, Shoyou,” he said, “I’m glad you… showed me kindness at the very end… I was scared, lying in that hole… thought I would die there, alone…” his brows pinched in pain. The hand by his hip twitched, as if longing to grab onto something but not having the strength to move an inch, “I was waiting for my moment… thought the empty grave… would be better than out in the open…”

He closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, it was with a veil of haze over them.

“I’m glad it was you, Shoyou…” he said, “I Think I’ll go now… if that’s OK…”

He watched. Held his gaze. Shushed his apologies.

And then, under the light of a new moon, an innocent being took his final breath. With eyes wide open he left the Earth, gazing into the stars in the sky and the man in the moon who, ultimately, became his very doom.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

Shoyou staggered away from there on unsteady legs, by the dawn of day. His soft palms were blistered and red, and his boots muddier than before.

Perhaps the grave keeper would wonder tomorrow.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

_But I’m only human, after all._

_Don’t put your blame on me._

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

He found Kageyama by the river he frequents, at the crack of dawn. Right before the twitter of birds filled the grim air. He raised an eyebrow Shoyou’s way, then stood.

“You look like shit,” he said, “Have you been crying?”

Shoyou didn’t know what to say, didn’t know what to do. Whom could he turn to? No one. Not one of them had any clue. So he did the only sensible thing; threw out all fear and hesitation, all anger, all mistrust—and waddled into Kageyama’s chest.

He let his arms hand numbly by his sides. Distantly his mind noted Kageyama’s lack of reaction, other than a flinch and a confused _What, now. _

He didn’t care what he thought. All he needed was some warmth. He’d been freezing for hours, and the stiffness of a corpse still clung to the skin of his palms.

Minutes passed.

He didn’t even notice Kageyama wrap his arms around him until the sound of beautiful twittering brought him back down to earth, to the embrace he was held in. Kageyama’s chest was warm, his arms and hands were warm. Kageyama was warm. He was still shirtless, despite the weather, and Shoyou assumed it had something to do with not running on fumes like Yamaguchi. Probably something to do with werewolf genes and a night of hunting.

“Do you kill other people’s cattle, Kageyama?” he asked into his chest, not expecting a reply—like so many times before.

Kageyama today, it seemed, was full of surprises.

“No,” he muttered, and Shoyou almost laughed at the grumpiness with which he spoke, “I have no need for that when there’s an entire forest at my disposal.”

“So you hunt wild animals?”

“Yeah, why? What’s all this about?” he asked, and moved to untangle Shoyou from him, but Shoyou only wrapped his arms around him and held on tighter. Refused to look him in the eyes.

Kageyama gave a gruff of disapproval, but otherwise didn’t make a move to detach him by force.

“Leech,” he mumbled, but it held no real bite.

Shoyou laughed. He felt strangely OK there, in Kageyama’s arms. Like nothing could hurt him. That night he’d come face to face with Kageyama’s polar opposite. With a person who was never meant for the life of wilderness. A gentle boy, the son of a shepherd. Not a vicious hunter.

Still, despite the vice that those scarred arms and that firm chest insinuated, Shoyou felt the safest right there. Despite their previous disputes and deep-rooted, unjustified hatred for each other.

In that moment they were one and the same. Standing under the same laws and the same ending.

“Kindaichi confronted me yesterday,” he said.

“Is that why you’re crying?”

“No.”

A bird landed on its nest in a tree over Kageyama’s shoulder. Shoyou could only barely see it.

“I’m crying because I buried an innocent man.”

“How cryptid of you,” Kageyama grumbled, but he didn’t prod.

Shoyou was thankful for it. He wasn’t sure he was ready to tell Yamaguchi’s story. The time wasn’t right for it, he felt it in his bones.

“What did Kindaichi say?”

“He’s been spying on me; knows about the visits with the professor. Knows everything, probably. It’s just a matter of proving it.” His finger found the rough length of a scar trailing Kageyama’s spine. “And, well, if I don’t spit out a tooth by the next hunt I’ll probably be hanged.”

Kageyama hummed in response. The deep sound reverberated through his chest and made something spark to life in Shoyou’s stomach.

“Maybe I can help with that,” he settled on.

That was when Shoyou finally untangled himself, reluctantly, to quirk two brows in Kageyama’s direction.

“How?”

“By giving you one of my fangs, of course,” he said, matter-of-factly, “You’ll be in my depth, though, but it’d save you your head,” he added as an afterthought.

“Besides,” he continued, and Shoyou got the sudden urge to rub his eyes and clear his vision. Was he seeing things or were Kageyama’s cheeks tinting ruby?

“Besides, I wouldn’t wanna see you dangle into such an unceremonious death. As much as I despise your presence, it doesn’t mean everyone else does, too.”

Shoyou knew that was a lie, so he grinned. But then it dawned on him.

“Wait,” he interrupted Kageyama’s flustered spew of excuses, “Won’t that hurt you, though?” he asked.

“Well, yes, but they’ll grow back fast. I’ll just have to endure it for a while. I’ll be fine. Nothing I can’t take.”

Shoyou couldn’t believe his ears.

“And you’d do this… for me?” he asked.

“I told you you’d be in my depth,” he growled in reminder.

He felt guilty for smiling, and he felt guilty for the spark that fanned into the tiniest of flames, because he knew there were innocent people out there who would never experience that again; who were robbed that opportunity.

Still, despite himself, a voice in his head that sounded suspiciously a lot like Yamaguchi’s soft pleas told him to hold this moment close to his chest.

Kageyama wouldn’t have to give any teeth or fangs. That much he was certain of.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

The warmth didn’t subside all the way home, where his family awaited him.

But he burned with more; with a determination so vicious it could burn down entire cities. He knew what he had to do, and he would do it.

“Tomorrow morning,” he said to himself, “Tomorrow morning I’ll let the world know.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me three days just to clean up this chapter with all the fesitivities going on around me.   
Bet your ass that I didn't have a moment to sprare to write a single word before christmas break.  
What's more, I had to actually sit my ass down and for hours try to work out the plot and where the fuck I want this story to go.  
Good news is I finally have it figured out.  
Bad news is, for me, that my notes are scattered all over the place. If a plot hole occurs, I blame it on my inability to keep my thoughts in order.
> 
> Anyways. What did yall think of this chapter? Did you think you'd finish this story unscatched, with your feelings intact?  
Hopefully not.
> 
> I warn ye, don't expect this to be a lighthearted story. I don't do lighthearted very often. 
> 
> Anyways, I'm decently pleased with the outcome of this chapter. Hope you like it too!  
Any thoughts or comments are greatly appreciated, and I will try to answer all.
> 
> Thank you for your support. 
> 
> xoxo


	5. Rainy Goodbyes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This entire chapter is just Hinata having a crisis.   
Guess which kind.

Sunrays streamed in through the closed windows and warmed Shoyou as best they could where he sat by the kitchen table, with his stiff digits wrapped around a steaming cup of tea.

His plan was foolproof, really. Only it carried a small problem. It was nothing he couldn’t adjust to, but it would require him to change everything.

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From the hallway came the soft patter of tiny feet.

“Ni-chan? It’s early.”

He turned and smiled at a bed-ruffled Natsu who stood with a hand wound tight in her shirt, and an arm wrapped around that ugly teddy bear Shoyou got her for Christmas when she was three. She was a sight to behold, all lidded eyes and pouty lips.

People often told him she looked like his exact copy, if only smaller. It always got a laugh out of people, since the extension of that comment would be the addition of a _“Smaller than Hinata-kun? Didn’t think that was possible!”._

He didn’t blame them too much, despite always putting up a scene about it. It was frustrating; to always be judged by his height first and foremost, but when he looked at Natsu and the fire sparkling behind her eyes he always felt proud to be her brother, and that she was his sister.

She dragged her way to Shoyou and slumped down in his lap. He wrapped both arms around her and nuzzled a cheek against the roof of her fluffy head. She smelt like butter and flour and Natsu.

“Did you help mom with the cookies for Mr. Izukou?”

She hummed and nodded, and the movement made her soft hair tickle his chin. Leaning her weight into him, she looked up; eyes wide and curious.

“Where were you?” she asked.

He opened his mouth, ready to answer, when another voice from behind interrupted their moment. “That’s a good question,” his mother commented and put a clenched fist on her hip.

“Don’t think we’re not onto you,” she said in answer to Shoyou’s shocked expression, “We know you’ve been sneaking off to God knows where almost every night for the past few months. Where have you been off to?” she asked and walked into the kitchen to ready pots and pans for lunch. “Have you met a girl?”

Shoyou tried not let his bashfulness show.

“Not a girl,” he said, “And it’s nothing like _that.”_

“Then what is it?” asked Natsu and wiggled around until she was turned towards him in his lap. Her arms were still clenched tightly around the toy, and something in Shoyou’s heart squeezed painfully at the sight.

She was so innocent and gentle, so sweet. Without him here to protect her, would she be alright? Would she hate him for leaving her? If something happened to her—to mother—would he ever be able to forgive himself?

“Shoyou?”

He looked up, and straight into his mother’s soft, brown eyes. Eyes which he’d inherited. Eyes which they’d both inherited. He couldn’t see her well; vision was suddenly terribly blurry.

“Ni-chan?”

“Are you crying?” his mother asked, and took a seat next to him, “What’s wrong, my dear? Did something happen? Talk to us. Tell us what’s troubling you,” she said and brushed calloused fingers through his hair.

“We’re family; we’re here to help each other!” cried Natsu and wrapped her arms around his neck.

The ugly teddy bear fell to the floor with a quiet, gentle _thud._

“I’m—sorry,” he sobbed, and wiped his eyes with the back of his wrist, “But you’re not gonna like what I have to say.”

Two pairs of familiar browns were glued to him. His sister’s, curious, his mother’s, worried. He could feel Natsu’s soft, warm breath fan against his neck.

How he would miss her.

He took a steadying breath. “I’ll be going away for some time. I don’t know when I’ll be back—_if _I’ll be back. But I’m going away. Far from here,” he said, “You see, all these nights I’ve been out learning, and I learnt things I probably would have been better off ignorant to, but now that I know I can’t rest not doing something about it, and doing something about it means leaving. It means putting myself at great risk, even, but I’m confident I’ll be OK. I have a plan, and it involves exposing the Nightchasers for the evil deeds they’ve done.”

His mother put a hand on her lips in quiet shock. Natsu only furrowed her brows. She was still young, but he knew even she understood the basis of it.

“So, you’ll be leaving us?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said.

His mother turned to gaze out the frosty window.

“Will we know if something were to happen to you?” she whispered to the planes outside.

“I don’t know,” he answered truthfully, “But I’ll do my best to make sure you do. I’ll even try my best to return, or at the very least visit you, but there’s no telling where my journey will take me.”

“And this… plan… it’s about the hounds?” she asked.

“_Werewolves, _mom,” he corrected, “They’re werewolves. People, too. I know it sounds like lunatic gibberish but trust me on this. I met one, many nights ago. He was wounded but, Christ, was he large! I thought for sure he would kill me, but he didn’t, so I promised to help him, and I did. I still meet with him as often as I can, but that’s not the point,” he said, and took a hold of Natsu’s hand.

“The point is that they’re people like us. People who were stripped off their homes and away from their families for our selfish gains. I don’t deny that they’re dangerous, or that they’ve hurt people, or that some of them are even bad—but I do deny that their hatred is unjustified. The things I’ve seen and read, mom…”

His breathing was shaky and uneven. Natsu squeezed his hand where it clenched hers tightly. Then, after a moment, his mother’s calloused palm joined them.

“I can’t say I understand, Shoyou, and don’t think for a moment that I approve of my son leaving me and his young sister to chase the law and go places unknown. With a foot in the grave and the other in a prison cell I’m bound by love to disapprove of your decision, but it doesn’t mean I don’t respect it. It’s your call to make, my son. If this is something you have to do—” she looked to Natsu, nodded, and looked back at me, “Then know you have our undying support. Wherever you might be and whatever you might do.”

“We know you, ni-chan. We know you wouldn’t do anything you didn’t think was worth doing.”

They smiled in union at him, copycats of each other, and he couldn’t help but smile wobbly in return.

“Are you guys sure you’ll be OK with me gone?” he asked.

His mother wiped a tear off his cheek, “We’ll be fine and dandy, I can assure you of that.”

He sniffed and squeezed Natsu closer.

“I love you guys. Please don’t forget that.”

The trees outside swayed in a gentle rhythm, and his mothers palm burned with love where it rested over his and Natsu’s.

“We love you more,” she said and wrapped him in her arms for what may be the last time.

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Daichi-san’s house stood crammed between a large barn and a smaller shed. Outside were chicken pens and fenced off land for their pigs and goats and the sound as you approached was nothing short of a zoo. At the foot of the house sat Daichi-san’s new puppy, who barked loudly at Shoyou and bounced off to meet him halfway as he approached. He’d seen the pup a handful of times already, but he was still a new addition to the Daichi household.

Behind him the sun was already setting.

“Hey buddy! Who’s a good boy?!” he laughed and scratched the tiny Pinscher behind his pointy ears, “Where’s your dad?” he asked the dog, who turned and darted off towards the barn.

Shoyou followed right behind, laughing heartily at the pup’s excited tail-wiggling.

Inside the large barn stood Daichi-san by one of hay bales with Suga-san. He waved and greeted them both, and they shared a happy moment chatting and playing with Daichi-san’s puppy before heading inside for the night.

“What brings you out here this late?” asked Suga-san once they’d made their way inside and sat down by the fireplace, “You rarely visit past dawn,” he laughed and took the offered tea from Daichi.

“I’m curious about that, too,” he said and sat down next to Suga-san. They were always glued to each other, right by the hip, and Shoyou couldn’t help but grin at the daring display of uncensored love.

He cleared his throat, all nerves surging back in less than a second. “Well, um…” he started, eloquently, “I, uh, will be going away. Far from here,” he said, then added, “For a while. Maybe forever.”

He chuckled nervously at their startled, worried expressions. Somehow their reactions scared him more than his mother’s and Natsu’s.

“What for?” asked Daichi-san, his voice strained.

“Well…”

“It’s about that werewolf, isn’t it?” Suga-san interrupted.

Daichi-san sighed loudly and rubbed his temples with the pads of his thumbs, “Are you serious, Hinata?” he asked, “Do you know how dangerous those things are? Is it out to kill you? Is that it? I told you he should stay away from those things.” The last part was aimed at Suga-san, who had the decency to at least appear regretful.

He aimed those furrowed brows Shoyou’s way. “What happened?” he asked.

-

Shoyou told them everything. About meeting Kageyama, and regularly meeting with him after that on multiple occasions. About Akaashi-san and the Night Academy and the fellies out on the streets.

He told them about everything except Yamaguchi. That piece he kept close to his heart. It wasn’t time to tell yet.

For the duration of his improvised speech Daichi-san and Suga-san only listened in silence. The crease between Daichi’s brows kept deepening for every word Shoyou uttered. He knew this was the extent to which their friendship went; that they’d no longer be willing to put up with him after this. He didn’t think they’d rat him out, but neither did he think they’d approve of his decision.

“And your plan?” Daichi-san finally asked, once Shoyou had finished speaking, “What’s your plan? Why are you leaving?”. His voice was hushed and raspy, like he was holding back from yelling, and Shoyou could practically see the vein throbbing in his temple.

“I borrowed one of the document’s from Akaashi-san’s office—”

“You mean you _stole _it?”

“—and I decided that I will expose the Nightchasers for what they truly are, for all the terrible things they’ve done. Come morning I’ll have posted the document on the public information board for the whole town to see, and my own copies of it on all the carriages going out of town today. It doesn’t matter if it gets taken down, I just want the word to spread. It doesn’t matter if people call it crazy gibberish; I know someone out there will believe me.”

Silence choked the air out of the room. Shoyou was surprised the fire still crackled behind Daichi-san’s and Suga-san’s backs.

“So you’re telling me… you’ll be exposing the Nightchasers; your profession—_my _profession—on the account of a document you found in a dusty office at the bottom of the Night Academy Library?” Daichi-san growled through gritted teeth, “Are you insane? Those _beasts _are monsters, Hinata! They’re not people!”

He slammed both fist on the table as he stood, arms flailing about as he spoke.

“You can’t—you _shouldn’t _help them more than you already have! Don’t you see what they are?”

“I do see!” he shouted back and stood to square himself against Daichi-san—despite the inches he had on Shoyou. Beside them Suga-san tried in vain to hush them.

“I see it all now! Everything! And _you, _you’re part of the problem! Don’t _you _understand? They’re torturing innocent beings! Stripping children from their homes and families! They smuggled in _toothbrushes, _Daichi-san! Toothbrushes!”

He was crying now. Thick tears flowed down his cheeks and puddled at his chin to drip down onto the carpet. His friends had both gone quiet, staring at him in shock.

Shoyou was do deathly tired of always being the crybaby. The years had done him no justice in that regard. On the contrary; the older he got the more he cried. Perhaps that was the case because he now knew he had more to cry for.

Memories of petal-soft freckles plagued his mind and his lip wobbled with the effort to keep his emotions in check.

“What happened out there?”

Shoyou didn’t want to answer, so he looked down and away. Glued his gaze to the pile of firewood by the kitchen entrance.

“I bet the pup you care so much for is one, too,” he spat, “What are you gonna do? Kill it? Throw it out in the rain and ice?” he whispered, still not looking his friends in the eyes.

“How can you be so sure he is?” asked Daichi-san.

“Because I am,” said a fourth voice. They all turned at once towards the door leading out to the porch.

There, in the warm light of the fire, stood a young man stark naked. His shoulders were pulled taught and proud, despite his state of undress, and the blond streak in his hair reminded Shoyou of the familiar patch of blond in the otherwise black fur of the puppy they all knew and adored.

Big, dark eyes stared back at them, unblinking, and his small fists hung clenched by his sides in seething determination.

Shoyou dimly noted that he was even shorter than him, and quietly celebrated the fact.

“Wh—who are you?!” shouted Suga-san. Behind him, Daichi rose the fire iron in a defensive pose.

“Hinata, move aside.”

“Daichi-san! It’s me! Don’t you recognize me?!” shouted the nude man.

Shoyou almost laughed at the absurdity of the situation. He hadn’t even heard him turn.

Daichi-san seemed to ponder it for a moment. His stance relaxed the smallest fraction. Shoyou saw the opening and stepped up right next to the naked werewolf.

“He has the same streak in his hair as Pup had in his fur. Besides, do you see him anywhere? We locked all doors and windows, and he was sitting idly by the fire minutes ago.”

Both his friends turned to inspect the small space around them. True to Shoyou’s words, the puppy was nowhere to be found. Instead, by Shoyou, stood a naked man with strikingly similar features.

“It can’t be,” his friend muttered and lowered the fire iron.

“It can. I could tell you where you hid that ri—”

In a flash of movement his friend leapt over the table and right over the couch and immediately slapped a hand over the werewolf’s mouth.

“Okay, okay! I get it! It’s you! Fine! I believe you! Just shut up about that!”

“About what?” asked Suga-san, crossing his arms.

“Nothing!” his partner squawked, all flustered and shy suddenly. His bravado thrown out the window in an instance.

Shoyou muffled his laughter behind a fist. “Nothing! You’ll know soon enough, I promise!” he tried reassuring.

“I couldn’t stand listening to you any longer, Daichi-san,” the stranger spoke up, “I’ve been keeping quiet about it for so long, but I felt it was time to finally show my true face. Sho-kun is right. About all of it. I know, because I was thrown onto the streets, too.”

“What’s your name?” asked Daichi-san.

“Nishinoya,” he said, “But you can call me Noya.”

Shoyou watched Daichi’s shoulders slump as he held Noya’s gaze, whose posture and stance didn’t falter. He radiated a confidence Shoyou wished he possessed.

Suga-san rubbed the tense knots out of Daichi-san’s shoulders from behind, “Just accept it, Daichi,” he hummed gently, “There’s nothing else we can do but to help Hinata fix what can be fixed. I’m not sure his plan will work as flawlessly as he wants it to, but I have faith in Hinata. As should you.”

Daichi-san nodded, slowly, and was about to speak his mind to Shoyou when something heavy crashed against the front door.

They immediately silenced. Waited.

Then, another bang.

This one, more determined. It didn’t sound like someone was trying to break in; more like someone was kicking at it to gain their attention. _Begging_ to come in.

“Who’s there?” shouted Daichi-san.

As he passed Shoyou and Noya he threw a blanket over the werewolf’s face.

“Put that around yourself,” he whispered and strode towards the door.

The banging returned, but no verbal answer came.

“Don’t test me, ya hear? I have a weapon.”

Painfully slow he unlatched the locks and turned the doorknob. By then, all three were squinting out of the crack in the door above Daichi’s shoulder.

Shoyou gasped when he saw it.

Out there on Daichi-san’s porch, in the pouring rain, stood a very wounded Kageyama.

A knife sat proud, wedged in his right hindleg, and from his back and abdomen protruded multiple arrows. Shoyou could tell he was bleeding from one of his ears, too, and that someone had stabbed his paw, as well.

“Christ!” he shouted and shoved aside all three shocked faces.

On the porch he fell to his knees by Kageyama, who slumped and fell, he too. He was breathing heavily, barely keeping awake, and prodded Shoyou’s legs with a paw—trying to tell him something, no doubt. Shoyou wished more than anything in that moment that he could read minds.

“What happened!” he gasped and felt around for any wounds he couldn’t see, “We need to help him, he’s dying!” he shouted back at the three shocked individuals.

The first to move was Noya, who unceremoniously dropped the flimsy fabric keeping his dignity intact, and fell to his knees by Kageyama’s hindlegs.

“We need to carry him inside or someone might see!” he shouted back over the rain and Kageyama’s pained whimpers.

“That?! In my house?!” Daichi-san protested but didn’t otherwise make a move to stop the three of them as they carried the massive beast indoors.

Suga-san visibly shook, but he helped anyway. Shoyou silently thanked him for it.

-

Well inside, they rushed to stop the bleeding and pull out the arrows and the knife still lodged in his thigh.

The knife was what pained to do the most. Kageyama’s loud, pained howling and growling rose in intensity. It stabbed right through Shoyou’s heart as he pulled, slow and gentle.

A squelching mess of blood flowed to the wooden floor in steady trickles. Kageyama’s whole body shook with shock tremors. Shoyou had no doubt in mind that the various weapons lodged in his flesh had caused tremendous damage and, consequently, hurt like seven hells.

“You’ll be alright,” he assured him in hushed tones. It reminded him of a time, months ago, and how he’d _oh-so-heroically _saved the same beast that lay stretched before him once again.

In the aftershock of the incident the three of his friends stood gathered around Kageyama, staring like kids in line for Santa on Christmas eve at the massive werewolf.

“Holy shit,” Suga-san breathed.

Noya nodded eagerly in response, although carried an entirely different expression. He seemed excited beyond comprehension at the display before him.

“Holy shit, he’s huge!” he cried and bent to run tender hands through coarse, black fur, “This is what purebloods look like? Haha! Awesome!”

Kageyama gruffed and whined in response, unsatisfied by something in Noya’s analysis, and nudged with his nose Shoyou’s hand where it rested on his injured paw.

“What?” he asked him but got nothing but a nasty glare in response.

Shoyou could almost hear the _“Dumbass!” _in his expression.

To his left he noted Daichi-san finally crouching down next to Noya to examine Kageyama at a closer distance.

“Are you sure he won’t bite our heads off?” he asked Shoyou.

“Positive,” he said and nodded for him and Suga-san to come closer.

“Wow…”

“Yeah! Wow! Why didn’t you tell us he was _this _big, Shoyou!”

“Well, I tried to!” he defended himself, “But you all thought I was exaggerating, or something!”

Kageyama wasn’t moving much during his and Noya’s chat, and Suga-san had taken to cleaning out his ear. It was the last of his wounds in need of immediate attention. They’d manage to wrap him up in bandages but had dropped even trying to stitch him up the moment he bit at air in Shoyou’s general direction; warning him not to even try. Possibly even cursing him for being an idiot and claiming he would stab him dead rather than help was he to try. Shoyou couldn’t exactly fault him for that opinion. He wasn’t exactly known for his delicacy.

Daichi-san had flopped down on the floor by Kageyama’s tail; deeming that to be the least lethal spot. Far from all and any fangs and strong jaws. He knew better than Shoyou what werewolves were capable of at regular sizes, much less a werewolf as abnormal as Kageyama was. Daichi’s shock only further cemented his theory that Kageyama was truly one of a kind. He wasn’t just bigger than usual, no. Kageyama was something else entirely.

Most werewolves rarely got this big during full moon, much less normally. Shoyou wasn’t sure he wanted to know what full moon Kageyama looked like anytime soon.

“Why is he here?” Daichi-san cut through the silence, “Was he chased?”

All questions were aimed at Shoyou, as if Shoyou could read werewolf minds. If anyone in that room should understand Kageyama in this state, it should have been Noya, but he seemed to know as much about Kageyama as Kageyama knew about him.

Next to nothing.

“I don’t know. Can’t exactly read his mind,” he said and turned to scowl at the man in question.

Then, without prompting, without warning, Kageyama huffed and turned on his stomach, and in the flash of a second howled out in pain. A deafening sound of breaking and cracking bones filled the stifling air, and the piercing roars of excruciating agony scorched the skin around Shoyou’s ears.

Suga and Daichi-san were both pressed against the wall. Noya san, too, had backed off, but remained about as near as Shoyou was; stock still in the disorientation of the moment.

Shoyou watched as bones bent and broke, skin shrunk and tore, and the shapes that were a werewolf slowly morphed into something more human, something in between. Slowly, so slowly, he took on the shape of a man, and in his wake left puddles of blood.

Then, before them, in a halfway sitting position, was Kageyama in his human form. Nude for the world to admire.

In a breath of awe Shoyou let his eyes wander the hard ridges of his abdomen. The firm planes of his chest and the sharp angles of his hips and shoulders. He let them graze the dips and curves of bloodied skin, and only stopped their descent at the happy trail of course, black hair that—

He swallowed, then promptly choked on his spit, and lastly—in a flustered mess—staggered backwards until he knocked into the table.

He locked eyes with Suga-san, who—despite the commotion—cracked a grin his way.

Kageyama, on the other hand, seemed entirely unphased by Shoyou’s bashfulness. He appeared preoccupied with le-learning how to breathe properly. The same chest Shoyou had admired moments prior was showered in blood and fresh cuts, as were long, slender thighs. Wounds they couldn’t see from the fur were now on full display on the pale canvas of his skin.

Thunder roared outside, and following it came a bolt of crackling lightning. A storm was cooking up as they sat there, silent for the millionth time that night, and did nothing but stare at the textbook definition of the male fig—

A werewolf. Just a werewolf. That was it. No need for Shoyou to spit poetics about his spectacular body.

Daichi-san was the first to speak up, seemingly less intimidated facing a human version of Kageyama.

“Why are you here?” he whispered.

Kageyama took another moment to breathe heavily. He was sweating, which in itself was a delight to Shoyou’s retinas, but ultimately meant Kageyama was probably suffering—considering the freezing temperatures that bled all the way into the house.

Suga-san, Daichi-san—even Noya—they were all baffled by the gruesome display. Shoyou had told Suga-san about werewolves and their transformation abilities, but it didn’t look like Suga-san had told Daichi. Still, the man remained as calm as always in such circumstances, and held Kageyama’s icy gaze well enough.

“They’re… looking for you,” he said, and cast a look Shoyou’s way beneath the curtains of his dark hair, “The nightchasers are…”

He maneuvered himself into a sitting position; now seated cross-legged before Shoyou, which was a disastrous idea considering his state of nudity.

Suga-san took pity on Shoyou, it seemed, for he threw a blanket each at the two indecent individuals, and huffed at them to _“Cover up, you perverts. Be civilized.”._

Kageyama nodded his thanks and took another handful of deep breaths. The scowl on his face was mightier than any Shoyou had ever seen on him, which—Kageyama being Kageyama—spoke volumes. What those volumes contained; he didn’t know.

Kageyama continued. “I overheard two of them while I was hunting. They were out on patrol, looking for that…” he paused, wracking his brain for a word, then sighed, “_Graverobber…”_ he said with great discomfort, “When one of them mentioned a document. He said he’d found it in the pocket of your pants in the changing room at the tower, and that he would charge you for suspect tailcoating.”

Suga-san offered the weary Kageyama a cup of water, which he guzzled down in seconds. He was getting sweatier by the minute, and his pained expression pinched further by the moment.

“I looked for you, everywhere, to warn you…” he said, and gulped for more air, “But you were nowhere to be seen. Had to follow your scent, but the rain made it next to impossible. It’s why it took me so long. We have to go… now…”

He paused to grab at his throat, eyes squeezed shut. Shoyou watched his hand travel to his shoulder and the nape of his neck before it fell to his lap.

“…before they get to _us,” _he finished, then added, “And I’m not just a pureblood, I’m an anomality… I’m not a textbook definition of werewolves,” he added, and cast a glare Noya’s way.

Shoyou would laugh if it weren’t for the striking similarity in his statement and Shoyou’s previous, lustful thoughts.

_Wait, lustful? Seriously?_

“We _have _to leave. Now!” he said and made to stand.

“Leave to where!?” Daichi-san spoke up, rising, too, to look Kageyama in the eye.

Like this, side by side, Shoyou could tell Kageyama had a handful of inches on Daichi-san, who appeared to be making the same evaluation as he looked up and into cold eyes of a predator.

“To Akaashi-san!” he supplied and made to grab Shoyou’s bags from the couch.

“Wait!” Suga-san interrupted, “You can’t leave without saying goodbye at least Shoyou!”

“You can’t leave at all! Are you insane?! What if something happens to you!”

Shoyou smiled at them, then, and they both silenced. How wrong he’d been to ever think, for even a moment, that their friendship went no further than pleasantries and common share.

There stood two individuals Shoyou knew he would miss above all else in the town, aside from Kenma. Kenma whom he wouldn’t have time to meet, as he’d planned.

“Tell Kenma I said goodbye, and that I’m sorry I didn’t have time to tell him that face to face.”

A hand grabbed a hold of his arm. Noya san looked into his eyes as he spoke. “I promise I’ll keep them safe for you. Natsu and your family, too, Shoyou. You have my word,” he said.

Shoyou grinned wobbly at him and went to shake his hand but was instead pulled into a bone crushing hug. Two pairs of embraces joined shortly after. Noya’s towel lay at the wooden floor for the second time that evening, and Suga-san remarked as much, to which they all laughed heartily.

Behind them, those scarring noises sounded again, and when they all turned, they came face to face with a pair of canine eyes and pointy ears.

Kageyama stood, then, and lumbered over to Shoyou. His friends all moved aside and watched as the beast of nightmares gently nudged Shoyou out of the house and into the pouring rain.

He stopped and turned one last time. “If the nightchasers come along and ask you questions, tell them I long left and that you didn’t know why or to where.”

With that, by Kageyama’s insistence, he clambered onto his back and grabbed fistfuls of fur. He wasn’t sure it was such a bright idea, considering the state of injury Kageyama was in, but he bet if he challenged that idea that Kageyama would have him crawl after him on all four instead, so he kept quiet.

“I guess this is goodbye!” he shouted into the night and hollered in fright as Kageyama took off down the road, “I’ll see ya another time!”

He wasn’t so sure about that, but he would goddamn try.

The sound of his friends shouting their goodbyes and good-lucks followed him through the rainy night.

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The rain outside crashed against Shoyou’s frosted cheeks as they leapt through the darkness. Despite his copious injuries, Kageyama ran so fast it felt like riding passenger in a car. Not that Shoyou had ever been inside an actual car; he wasn’t even sure he’d ever actually seen one other than on paper. Still, he assumed that it would reach speeds this fast. Shoyou quietly, bathed in awe, wondered how fast Kageyama normally ran. When he was well rested, healed, healthy and full.

They dashed by warm-lit houses and empty fields where trees swayed dramatically in the theatrical weather. Thunder roared ahead and vibrated through Shoyou’s lungs, like a motor coming to life. Like a dragon snoring in his cave.

A mere few minutes later they entered the premises of the Night Academy, right through the main entrance. Shoyou was about to complain but shut his mouth against the aggressive wind. Rain and leaves pushed and prodded at every entrance-point in his face to be let in.

Oh well. There were no guards out on a night like this, anyways. Perhaps there should have been, but luckily for them there were none. Only the whistle of heavy winds occupied the otherwise serene gardens of the front entrance.

Shoyou thought for a second that Kageyama would rush right to the front door and barge in through the heavy wood; he wouldn’t put it past him to such extremities, but to his utter surprise he rounded a corner and trotted the last bit to one of the large trapdoors leading down to the basement of the building.

Except in the crack of the open trapdoor stood a hooded figure, hunched in the beastly weather, and ushered for them to hurry over.

Well inside, descending the small flight of stairs, the hooded figure turned towards them and unveiled their hood to reveal a very familiar face.

“Akaashi-san?!”

“Shh! Be quiet or someone might hear us,” he hushed, “Follow me.”

The walked right at his heel through the empty corridor with the cobbled walls and marble floor. Even the basement of the Night Academy, it seemed, was of a poshness Shoyou couldn’t begin to imagine or understand. Why in heaven’s name a basement floor, void of visitors—save for cleaning staff and the occasionally professor—would need marbled floors, was beyond him. Perfectly polished, at that. So bright and shiny he watched his own grumbling, wet features as they went on through the dim-lit space.

“In here,” the professor whispered to them over his shoulder, and ushered them into one of the doors lining the corridor.

Inside were so many candles Shoyou felt like he’d been transported to Bethlehem during the birth of Christ himself. The hundreds of flickering flames hurt to look at and would have been excruciating if it weren’t for the otherwise lively interior of the space.

It wasn’t particularly cluttered; nowhere near as bad as Akaashi-san’s offices or the God-forsaken Library above their heads, but it was certainly not void of personality. So many carpets were thrown over and next to each other in the center of the room that they created an artificial hill in the middle of it, on top of which slumbered a mighty werewolf.

Or, well, was slumbering. Before they’d entered, which had inevitably stirred the sleeping beast and woken him.

If the many carpets and million candles, colorful chairs and rounded, green-chipped table had been a lot; it was nothing to the intensity of which the beast whipped up and ran towards a sighing professor.

The black and white, oversized _dog—_really—sniffed and whined and bounced on his legs in utter exhilaration. His tail waggled so hastily Shoyou feared for a second that it would swish to the side and fall off, never to be worn and abused like that again, but it didn’t. It remained dutifully stuck there, flaunting the beast’s emotions for the whole world to admire.

Utter and absolute adoration.

Then, in a flicker of bright light, stood before them a man. Nude, as per usual, but otherwise hole. No bloody skin, no sound of groaning bones and joints dislocating. Not even any pained howling or tortured huffing.

A second ago he’d stood before them as a werewolf, and now he was not. As simple as that. Even Kageyama appeared startled at the sufficient, painless transformation.

“Ak_aa_shi!” the broad fellow yowled and threw himself onto an unprepared Akaashi-san, who had been in the process of removing his long robe.

“Bokuto-san, please!” he protested, but didn’t otherwise make a move to untangle those large limbs from around his neck. “Please! We have guests. Behave, for once. And put on some clothes!”

“Aww, are you mad that someone else gets to see all parts of me otherwise reserved for you?” he pried, unaware of the professor’s stone-cold glare.

“Cover. Up.” He gritted out and ducked around the lumbering man to pick up discarded clothes, presumably Bokuto-san’s.

“I’m sorry about him,” he apologized to Shoyou and Kageyama as he offhandedly shoved the cloths in Bokuto-san’s general direction—who huffed indignantly in response and reluctantly pulled a worn shirt over his head. “He has a knack for embarrassing himself and me in the process wherever we go. You’re injured,” he said, and pointed at Kageyama, “Let me tend to your wounds.”

“They’ve already been tended to,” Shoyou supplied, knowing Kageyama’s distaste for contact, but to his utter bafflement the large beast merely pushed aside Shoyou and staggered over to a waiting Akaashi, tail waggling ever so slightly.

_What?_

He fumbled and squawked, flustered to the tips of his ears. What did that mean?

Luckily for him, he didn’t have much time to grumble Kageyama’s apparent liking of the handsome professor, for the next moment his line of sight was filled with a very happy face and very wide, very sun-toned eyes.

“I take it you’re Hinata-kun, right?” he half shouted. Shoyou could feel the warmth of his breath on his face and found that his wide grin was incredibly infectious.

Finally, a happy face for a change.

“I thought for a moment that all werewolves were the broody type,” he joked, which earned him a hearty laugh from Bokuto-san. A laugh so deep and joyous it settled in the nooks and corners of the room and lifted every spirit present or past.

“Me? Broody? Never!” he laughed, to which Akaashi-san quietly protested.

“Unless he gets into one of his _moods—”_

“What brings you here, Hinata-kun? I’ve heard a lot about you! I’m Bokuto Koutaro, but you can call me Bokuto,” he said, and exaggerated a salute with his broad chest puffed all the way up to his chin.

Every inch of him screamed unstable mountain. Like an earthquake, or a ravine; he radiated catastrophic might. Power and strength flowed like honeyed syrup through his veins and dripped into the low rumble of his voice. Not unlike the thunder outside; it boomed in between the atoms of everything.

He was as unlike Kageyama as you could get. Where Bokuto was loud and catastrophic, power and strength; Kageyama was the fluidity and chill of running rivers, the predictable lethality of winter snowstorms and overgrown swamps. He was the cold to Bokuto’s warm, the quiet to his loud, and the lean to his wide.

It was a breath of fresh air for Shoyou, who’d only been enduring insufferable people for so long.

He sighed, then, and relaxed in the overwhelming extroversions that were Bokuto and his confidence; for once not the one who had to keep humor and warmth at a stable in every room he entered.

“The Nightchasers, they’re on my tail for wanting to rat them out for what they truly are,” he explained.

“They?” asked Bokuto, “Aren’t you one?”

Something trickled its way down Shoyou’s throat and fell pleasantly in a hole somewhere inside that he hadn’t even known of. _That’s right, _he thought.

“Yeah,” he breathed, “_They. _Because I’m not a Nightchaser anymore.”

Admitting it out loud for the first time was like finally breaching the surface after being down under for far too long. It was strange, to have working lungs when he’d never known anything else but the pressure of underwater, but it was a welcome strange, nonetheless.

Bokuto hummed delightedly, “So are you a Moonfighter now, then?” he prodded on.

“Don’t pressure him, Bokuto-san,” came Akaashi-san’s intervention from where he sat bent over Kageyama’s torso. Shoyou noted his still wagging tail and got the inexplainable urge to swat at it, or at his head. Whichever would still him the longest.

_Whatever, _he thought bitterly as he watched the two werewolves, enamored by the gentle beauty, surround him on all sides and angles with their attention.

Whatever! Shoyou had his qualities, too! Like—

Like…

Well… he had them! He was an excellent jump, for one, and he’d been told many times that his athleticism proceeds him!

Fine. So maybe he didn’t have pretty, green eyes or silky, black hair, or a velvety voice. Maybe he didn’t have long legs or pale, spotless skin, or…

His train of self-deprecating thoughts was interrupted by the creak of the door behind him opening. Light sipped through the crack and filled the room as the other person opened it inch by inch wider, and, once it was finally opened to the fullest, Shoyou positively got whiplash by the person he came face to face with.

A mop of blonde hair, shoulder length and a little bit greasy like always—no matter how often he washed it—swayed gently with the fluid, quiet movements of Kenma’s body.

“Kenma?!” he shouted and was immediately hushed by all verbal inhabitants. Even Kageyama let out a low, threatening growl.

_Oh, really now? I thought you were too busy purring, _he sneered in his own head, seething in his own misery, but he didn’t have much time to grumble over his own self-pity.

“Shoyou?” Kenma asked in turn, staring wide-eyed at him.

“I take it you two know each other, no?” asked Bokuto.

He walked up to the duo and glanced over their heads—looking for something—or… someone.

Through the door came another man, except this one was taller than all three of them. Probably around the same height as Kageyama.

Pitch-black hair stood up strangely, seemingly possessing a life of its own, and gold-clad eyes pierced right through him.

Shoyou recognized those eyes; had spent countless nights awake at Kenma’s house getting stared down by them not to remember them.

“Kuroo… is a fellie…” he mumbled to himself, paralyzed to the spot.

Had Kenma known?

As if he’d read his thoughts, his friend spoke up:

“The day I got stuck in that mountain, and couldn’t get out, he was the one who saved me. I didn’t know, then, that overnight he’d turn into a silly housecat, but I learnt soon enough that Kuroo and Savior were the same. Sorry, Shoyou, I was gonna tell you but never got the opportunity to.”

Shoyou knew that part of the reason for it was his insistence on joining the Nightchasers, and what that profession was known for. He couldn’t blame Kenma for his unwillingness to potentially expose Kuroo to pain and even death. Or risk have him taken from him.

“I had an inkling feeling, all along, that your cat was too smart for anyone’s good, but I didn’t think it was human-smart.”

“Not human,” the beast intervened, “Only a very strange sort of werewolf,” he winked, then, at Shoyou, who stood stock still, “It’s a pleasure to finally, officially meet you, Shoyou,” he said.

“Likewise!” he cheered and bumped a fist in the air between them, grin spread from ear to ear.

“What are you guys doing here?” he asked Kenma, who scratched the back of his head as he spoke, “Saw a group of nightchasers running around town and assumed it had something to do with you,” he said.

Shoyou let out a noise of offense, but didn’t get to speak his mind over the sound of Kuroo-san laughing at their antics. He figured it was for the better. Kenma must have been suspecting something for a long time now. Probably knew well before Shoyou what Shoyou would do.

Shoyou wondered, then, as he watched Kuroo and Kenma interact, how many more, secret fellies there were around him at all times. What about Mrs. Okumura’s cat, or the dog that lived down the street on the other end of town?

How many of them could turn into interesting individuals at will? How many were listening to his every word, understanding it fully?

Speaking of fellies turning into interesting individuals.

“Ah, Bokuto-san,” he addressed the burly man, whose grin widened at the call of his name, “How come you can turn without hu—”

“Oh my God!”

Kenma’s uncharacteristic outburst startled Shoyou out of his own question, and he turned at the sound of his friend’s choked noises. Kenma stood pointing a shaky finger in Kageyama’s general direction, the object of the attention not moving a muscle; used to people’s reactions to him.

Kenma turned, slowly, with a finger still raised, and stared incredulously at Shoyou.

“_That _is _the _Kageyama? _That thing?” _he guffed.

“I keep telling everyone to take me seriously, for once,” Shoyou began, exasperated by the people around him never fully hearing him, “Yes, that’s _him. _He’s a person, not an object,” he fired back.

Kenma remained silent, not moving a single muscle as he scanned the outstretched length of Kageyama’s limp body from tail to ear. No one could fault him for his childlike wonder, but to Shoyou it only served to frighten him. Kenma was a man not keen on expressing himself as openly as Shoyou, and he certainly never had loud outbursts. Well, except for in the case of the abnormal werewolf, it seemed.

“May I?” he asked, hand outstretched above the fur of his stomach by which Kenma now sat crouched. The question had been directed at Kageyama, who only blinked in answer.

It was enough an answer to Kenma, who dug into the soft fur and gawked quietly at the very fibers that made up Kageyama, who, in turn, started looking more annoyed as each second passed.

“Your plan,” Akaashi-san said, standing, “What was it?”

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_If it’s an eye for an eye, then we’ll all go blind._

_Is it hard to see?_

_So far behind, no finish line._

_It can happen to you, it can happen to me._

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With those words they were flung right back into the business at hand; fleeing the Nightchasers and, simultaneously, outing them for their misdeeds. Shoyou retold his plan to the professor, as he’d done many times that day. Unlike his mother, and Daichi-san, Akaashi-san only nodded in time with his explanations.

Once he was done explaining his motives, and how he would go about it, they all agreed that, perhaps, it was the only thing he could do with the power and knowledge he had right now.

“You’ll need more, though. If you want results out of all this,” said the professor.

The room had gone sternly quiet, pregnant with the worry etched on everyone’s features. How he’d gotten so many people to care, many of which had been strangers to him not long ago, was beyond comprehension.

“I know, but it’s all I’ve got for now, and I don’t exactly have the time to figure out something better.”

“Maybe you do,” said Kenma, “Maybe you don’t have to change anything at all, only add a detail. Something you could pick up on the road,” he said.

Shoyou frowned; not fully understanding what Kenma was trying to tell him, then Bokuto spoke up:

“Ah! Like a witch!”

Akaashi-san cleared his throat from his seat at the small table.

“What he means is that you might need a wicth to fight alongside you, if you really want to make a change that is,” he clarified.

“A witch?” Kenma asked, “How’s that gonna help?”

“Well, for one: they’re powerful. And, they have all the knowledge you could possibly need. Everyone and their mother knows that witches hold status. Surely, you’ve learnt that much, haven’t you? It was a witch that saved the life of the King’s firstborn, after all,” he said, which was more than Shoyou had heard him speak the entire night, “And, so,” he continued, “What better source— what better ground—than a witch to fight on your side? Unlimited werewolf knowledge, power and status. It’s all you need, Hinata-kun.”

He pondered the idea for a moment. Of course, witches were powerful; they were the ones who created the werewolves in the first place, the casters of their curse. Surely, they’d know everything there is to know about werewolves, and the people know that. But people also fear them, for the same curse they’re praised for, and people certainly don’t like them. It’s why they live in exile and are next to impossible to find.

Locating one would be a nightmare, but the outcome, were he to find one willing to side with the Moonfighter cause, would be extraordinary.

“Alright. I’ll do that, then. But where do I even begin to look?” he asked.

Another silence stretched between them as they thought. The only person doing minimal thinking was the snoring Kageyama on the mountain of carpets in the dead center of the room, lying there like a boisterous decoration. Shoyou had the very justified urge to kick him in the ribs as hard as he could, and he would have, were it not for the fact that the knew those same ribs had just been tended to for many wounds.

Surely a kick would kill him, so he refrained from it. For now.

“I think your best bet is the Capital,” Akaashi-san finally spoke up.

“Yes, yes,” Kuroo nodded in agreement, “It’s where all us fellies are from. If I remember correctly, the castle actually has it’s own mage, and he usually required helping hands from nearby witches in order to fulfill the mutations,” he explained, then grinned, “Of course, his experiments didn’t really turn out very successful, did they?” he said, and chuckled.

“Then it’s settled,” said the professor and stood up, “But you must leave as soon as possible. The longer you stay in one place, the likelier it is that the Nightchasers might find you.”

“I have to hurry to the square and post these:” Shoyou said and took out the last of the worn document he had.

Akaashi-san said that it wouldn’t be enough and gave him instead the Toothbrush-document as well as an official report from the royal Hound Training staff on some of their experiments and training routines.

Shoyou nudged Kageyama’s face with the boot of his shoe and urged him to hurry and get up, put on his jacket, and stuffed the crumbled documents in his worn rucksack.

“Take care now, Shrimpy,” Kuroo said, and reached out a fistbump which Shoyou greatly reciprocated.

“I never got to tell you this but thank you for saving Kenma that day all those years ago. He means a lot to me, ya know,” he said, and smiled.

Kenma didn’t say much in reply, only walked up to him and wrapped him in a tight, tight embrace. In his ear he whispered, so quietly not a soul but Shoyou could hear:

“Stay safe, Shoyou.”

He squeezed back, and swallowed the tears threatening to spill. All his emotions, all his fears, were surfacing at record speeds. He was about to embark on a journey on groundless footing, sporting the thickest of blindfolds. He had barely any food, no way of finding his way through lands he’d never traveled and wasn’t even sure he could protect himself were something to happen on the road. His only security came in the shape of a massive beast, which he couldn’t travel with without getting spotted and captured.

Still, it was something he had to do. Not for the kingdom, nor for his family. This was about Shoyou, and about the countless of innocent being out there getting chased and killed. Above all else, it was about his dignity and morals. If he didn’t fight, if he didn’t stand up while he could walk, what good was he as a human being?

No, he had to fight. He would fight.

“Thank you, guys,” he said, standing at the threshold of the Academy, “I’ll miss you all.”

“Don’t you worry about us now, Hinata-kun! I’ll make sure these guys remain happy and whole!”

“Hey! That’s my line!” Kuroo objected.

They were at each other’s throats in no time. As much as Shoyou would have loved to stay, to talk more, to get to know these people he’d immediately come to like—he knew he had to leave.

Kageyama thought as much, judging by the insistent nudging of Shoyou’s waist. He would never in a million years admit that it tickled.

“Come visit us when all of this is over, Hinata-kun,” Akaashi-san said, and bowed, “We’ll be waiting for your news.”

“Make us proud, Shrimpy!”

“See ya!”

Shoyou smiled and clambered up Kageyama’s back. Once straddled, he looked back at the hoard of people still gathered by the basement stairs and grinned as bright as the sun itself.

“Let’s go, Kageyama,” he whispered to the impatient werewolf, and before he could glance back one last time, they were speeding off into the night.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all coming together.
> 
> I'm not good with describing emotions, I realize, because I'm so void of them myself, but I think I did alright.   
I like spitting poetry about Kageyama, in case you couldn't tell.  
That I have no problem with.


	6. Child of the Capital

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hooooooooooooh~!!  
I'm baaaaaack!!!
> 
> Took me long enough, I know, but I swore I wouldn't quit on this and I won't. Now that we're getting to the good bits I'm kinda getting excited for this story all over again.
> 
> Thank you to everyone who stayed through my hiatus! My update schedule will hopefully be back to normal now, though expect some lagginess through march as I finish the last of my senior project. If I don't finish it I don't get to graduate high school, so... priorities...
> 
> Anyways, hope you enjoy this disaster!

The village of Miyagi rests comfortably in its corner of the world, a month’s journey by foot to the Capital. Luckily for Shoyou riding wolf-back is expected to take less. Of course, with sufficient rests in-between, since Kageyama cannot remain wolf as effectively through the day.

They still hadn’t received any news as to whether Shoyou’s plan had worked, which he supposed made sense, since they were currently heart-deep into the Hound Forest—they kept approximately a mile between them and the main route to keep from curious eyes of weary, story-thirsty travelers.

Shoyou quickly learned things about Kageyama he’d never had the chance to ask, or the permission to. For instance, his nocturnal habits and how they stretched far beyond what was considered typical for werewolves. He’d asked him about his lack of sleep—more so out of concern—and had received nothing but a gruff scoff in return. Perhaps Kageyama’s uncooperativeness was for the better. Perhaps. But Shoyou was a people’s person, and he knew for certain that he wouldn’t survive a monthlong journey riding on the back of a sentient being without talking its ears off.

They were lumping through a beautiful meadow. To each far side of them, trees rose from the field and marked off the outer edges of the open terrain. Shoyou was basking in the sunlight, swaying from side to side in rhythm with Kageyama’s stride. Rejoicing in the lukewarm winter-rays while it lasted.

“And I told her that she couldn’t because the axe was too heavy for her and—guess what—she didn’t give up! She just took it, out of my hands, and swung it _suuuper _far behind her head—which, you know, hurt to see—and swung with all her might but the force _tipped _her over on her bum!” Shoyou laughed heartily at the memory. “I couldn’t even bring myself to help her up! I was laughing so hard!”

Kageyama made no sign that he’d listened, but Shoyou knew his ears had nothing else to focus on.

“I told her later that she was _mad _for swinging it like that, of course, but—” His sentence was cut short when Kageyama halted, growled, and shook him so hard he toppled over. The whoosh of air as he fell nearly deafened him, and the resounding _bam _meant pain shot up his neck and down his back.

He groaned. “What the hell was that for?!” Sitting up on his ass, he rubbed the sore muscles of his lower back and neck and felt around for any protruding bones.

A loud cracking of bones rung in his ears, and he was certain, for a moment, that he’d broken every bone in his spine, but where his fingers insistently pressed no terrible pain threatened to paralyze him.

He looked up and into the very human eyes of a Kageyama in the middle of putting on clothes.

“Why’d you throw me off?” He asked again, pouting and puffing his cheeks in a vain attempt to instill a level of sympathy in his travel companion. “You know, no one forced you to come with me!”

“Do you have an off button somewhere?” Asked Kageyama, “Or do I have to endure your pointless blabbering right by my ear for the rest of the journey?”

“What! I was just making conversation! It gets boring sitting in silence the entire time.” He crossed his arms tighter of his chest, and bit at his lower lip.

“You can leave, if you find me so annoying! I was planning on doing this on my own anyway!”

“Oh, please,” he scoffed, “You wouldn’t make it a mile in before getting attacked and mauled to death, or falling down a cliff, or walking into a trap. There’s not a single person who in their right mind would trust you with keeping yourself from dying.”

Shoyou tried not to let his words hurt him, but the sentiment still stung. Despite it being Kageyama. He rose on wobbly legs, staring intently at the ground, and refused to meet his eye.

“As if you’d care if I died,” he mumbled.

The sentence, however, didn’t go unnoticed by Kageyama’s spectacular hearing. His posture stiffened. Shoyou’s eyes, where they were glued to the ground beyond Kageyama’s hip, noticed the way his fist clenched and unclenched. He looked up, then, and found in his expression…

_Hurt? Discomfort? Betrayal? _

He wasn’t quite sure. Kageyama was a mystery beyond all mysteries of this world. Still, something in the way those dark brows couldn’t make up their mind on rising to his hairline of furrowing over his eyes hit something soft and vulnerable in Shoyou’s heart.

Kageyama gritted his teeth. “Fine, then. Good luck on your own.”

Shoyou watched in bafflement as he turned and grimly stomped away, the line of his board shoulders taught as a tripwire.

“Fuck,” he cursed under his breath. He bit his lower lip in agitation, watched Kageyama recede into the depth of the forest.

The pit of his stomach boiled over, and the vapor rose to heat his neck. Hot and ugly it boiled deep, and he shouted after him, “Fine! See you never, jerk! Just you watch! I’ll do it all without you!”

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Perhaps his decision to angrily shove away Kageyama’s presence hadn’t been his brightest moment, he realized, once night had fallen over the Hound Forest, and the many howls in the night only served to further agitate his already fragile nerves.

He sat crouched over a pile of firewood, trying his best to light a fire with one of his matches, but the damn thing wouldn’t take. A frigid wind had picked up, and the starless sky above didn’t bode well for Shoyou, who was currently without protection from the oncoming snow.

When his third match failed to do its job, he sighed and gave in. There was no point in wasting any more matches. He would just have to keep moving. That would keep him warm enough not to freeze to death or lose a few toes. So, he did.

Rising from his spot between two large stones, he looked around the forest in his vicinity—squinting through the pitch-black darkness. He couldn’t make out any silhouettes, or glinting teeth, or feral eyes—so he deemed it OK to move on.

Each crunch of his step on fallen leaves brough him back to his first night with the nightchasers. To the mortification he’d felt nestle itself in the depths of his bones, and to the uncertain grip he’d had on his holster.

If only he had his weapons now. All he had on him was a small pocketknife which, he knew, wouldn’t be able to kill a werewolf even half as large as Kageyama.

A gust picked up the hem of his jacket and brough the chilly winter air inside. It fanned over his skin and rose goosebumps in its wake. Another howl rang through the air, from far in the distance, but he knew it’d get answered by a much closer one in a mere minute.

A break in the forest allowed him to look up at the sky, and he caught a glimpse of the moon behind the heavy layer of clouds. It was a young moon, luckily. No more than a bent strand of luminous hair ripping through the black infinity above.

He stood and watched for a moment, entranced by its beauty, when a sound from behind made him startle and turn—knife held high and tight.

“W-who’s there?!” he shouted into the night, but the moonlight—as weak as it was—had blinded him entirely. He couldn’t see anything but the thickest of trees, and when the clouds above filtered out what little light there was, he was doused in absolute darkness.

It started low and soft; no more than gentle vibrations. Growling, from somewhere ahead of him. It sounded a lot like whatever was circling him was getting closer and closer. The soft sound turned to loud, chilling noise. It raked down his back like the claws of the very predator he knew couldn’t wait to sink its teeth into his supple flesh.

He swallowed and readied himself for an attack as every sense in his body concentrated on the slowly approaching threat. Was there one or more of them? Were they hostile because he’d crossed their territory, or where they simply so starved they’d tear into him with delight?

A heavy paw landed in the dry, frozen dirt among rotten leaves, and Shoyou’s lip wobbled in tandem. The stroke of something warm grazed his cheek as the werewolf’s growls stopped.

Then, there was silence, and Shoyou knew it meant it’d gotten close enough to leap at him. He took a deep breath, and could do nothing more, when a warm, furry body leaped out of the woods and crashed right into him. His hand where it gripped the knife was so cold and frozen that stiff fingers wouldn’t listen to his command. He could do nothing but lay there as the werewolf—

Stood there… Hovering over him, growling in the opposite direction.

Shoyou looked down at his toes and saw beyond them the looming shape of a second werewolf, growling and barking towards Shoyou. Their tail curled into their body, stiff and terrified, between their legs. Their ears, pointy and familiar, pressed firmly against their scalp. They were scared, Shoyou could tell, and the next moment the werewolf was gone. Retreating into the darkness so fast Shoyou hadn’t managed to blink in between.

Above him loomed a familiar, lumbering shape. Shoyou tried not to blush at the questionable position and willed instead his frantic heartbeat to calm.

Then, from the depths of his chest, sounded a low, “Idiot.”

Shoyou blinked. Then blinked again.

“Kageyama?” He said, so quietly it nearly drowned in the rush of the wind around them.

The werewolf in question turned and plopped down right on top of Shoyou, who sputtered and groaned in response to the sudden weight of a heavy wolf settling on his body and the mouthful of fur inhaled.

“W-What are you doing?” He asked. The heat in his face was so intense it stung his cheeks. “Listen,” he said, trying for a laugh, “I know you missed me, but you’ll kill me if you don’t get off—”

“You’ll freeze to death.”

Shoyou gaped at him. “You can speak?!”

“Well, yes. Surprise,” he deadpanned. His mouth made the smallest of movements, otherwise it didn’t show much indication that he’d spoken. It still sounded like Kageyama, only gruffer and darker; like he’d been smoking ten packs a day his entire life.

Shoyou realized that the weight of Kageyama, as heavy as he was, did slowly thaw his frozen limbs. Kageyama was warm. Something Shoyou had already established.

“Why’d you come back?” he whispered.

“I never left, dumbass.”

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Now that Hinata had learned he could speak—just as he’d feared—there was no end to his questions.

He squirmed where he sat on Tobio’s back, and occasionally kicked his legs back to front. Ramming his heels into Tobio in the process. Of course, the dumbass didn’t have a concept of decency in his brain. The idiot most certainly saw him as some pony he could kick around, only a more sentient one.

He actively ignored the hundreds of questions fired his way, and let instead Hinata make his own, dumb guesses, half of which were deliberately extra-stupid in hopes of riling Tobio up enough so that he’d talk back.

Tobio in kind deliberately refused to take the bait.

They’d been walking for almost an hour. Tobio had insisted they find a place where they could rest and warm up. Someplace he could make the idiot eat something, which he’d forgotten do to since Tobio pretend-left him to his own devices.

The airhead hadn’t even noticed he’d been followed for hours, and probably wouldn’t have if Tobio kept following him the entire journey. The dumbass had no idea how lucky he was Tobio hadn’t left.

His ears ignored the drone of his voice as he was brought back to memories of Hinata’s frightened expression, eyes wide and brimming with tears, and his tiny, _tiny _hand holding stiffly a weapon he wouldn’t use.

The night’s he’d spent at the Academy had softened him. Tobio knew Hinata would never again be able to hurt a werewolf, no matter how hostile they were towards him. That was simply who he’d become.

Perhaps it was the reason as to why Tobio felt so frustratingly compelled to protect the stupid airhead.

Hinata’s squeaky voice from above, and the annoying swinging of his short legs, moved something stiff and cold in Tobio’s chest. Only a fraction. A millimeter at a time. Tobio could never—he realized in growing horror—in a million years leave him to wander onwards on his own. If anything were to happen to him…

Tobio wasn’t sure he’d stand back up ever again.

Not as the person he was, at least. So, he swore to himself, despite Hinata’s annoying kicking and childish storytelling, that he’d never let him out of his sight again.

For as long as Tobio had a consciousness he’d protect him.

Why, he couldn’t answer. Not then.

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Learning Kageyama could speak was, despite his best efforts, not the cure-all he’d expected it to be. Instead Kageyama’s prolonged silences only served to further irritate him, now that he _knew _he could both speak and understand him fully.

If he were being completely honest Kageyama’s unwillingness to humanize himself in Shoyou’s eyes only served to raise suspicion in the already vaguely suspecting Shoyou, who’s companion could kill him in a matter of seconds if he so pleased.

At first, he’d thought no more of it than it being Kageyama’s version of being vary; closed off. He haphazardly tied it to a vague idea of what Kageyama’s life might have been like before he met Shoyou and concluded that his closed-off nature had to have something to do with it. Still, it hurt to be ignored. It hurt to never get a reply.

Most of all it scared him; the stretched out quiet. The way Kageyama’s footsteps were practically not making any sound at all, as light as the tap of a feather on a stone. For a creature of his size, it was definitely unnerving.

Shoyou’s talking was his way of trying to steel his nerves. He couldn’t exactly stop now, and he had no clue as to how long he’d spend looking for the damned witch. He didn’t want to believe Kageyama would betray him, or lie to him, so he let every quiet for an answer fly over his head.

By the end of their first week out they finally reached a larger city. It was by no means the size of Miyagi, but for being the first proper city they’d seen in a while it was certainly a sight to behold.

Wooden houses, cobbled roads and a thick, guarded wall greeted the duo by the gates one afternoon.

“Who whishes to pass?” Shouted one of the guards. The two before Shoyou and Kageyama were both holding large iron-spears; tilted towards each other in a universal display of _‘we’ll make lunch out of you if you dare try us’._

“We’re just starving travelers passing through, sir! No harm intended here! All we wish for is a place to sleep the night and some warm food!”

He tied his hands behind his back and innocently fluttered his lashes up at the guard standing watch above them. He was a bulky, round figure with a helmet too large for his head and an impressive black mustache.

He pondered Shoyou’s request for a while, turned to ask something of his men and then turned back to scrutinize Shoyou behind the fat tip of a ruddy nose.

“Alright, and who’s the fella travelin’ with ya?” He demanded, nodding pointedly at a fuming, smoldering Kageyama whose fists were knotted tight and whose lumbering height behind Shoyou looked nothing short of a very reasonable threat to the entire city. If looks could kill Kageyama’s glare of death would earn him the nickname of Medusa.

“He, uh,” Shoyou fumbled, beads of sweat forming at his temples. He nudged Kageyama in the ribs a little harsher than perhaps necessary. It seemed to serve its purpose. Kageyama flinched and forcibly morphed his features into something he probably thought looked more pleasant.

Whatever. Shoyou would take whatever crumbs he could get.

“He’s accompanying me on my journey, sir! As you can see, I’m not much of a fight, so the big guy here offered to serve as, uh, protection, on my journey…”

He trailed off nervously and watched the guard squint in doubt. It hadn’t been a complete lie, only a modification of the truth. Shoyou was small and helpless, but only against big and beastly werewolves. He had no doubt in mind that he could beat up a human at least as large as Kageyama, but a three-meter werewolf was no easy feat even for the biggest and burliest of chasers.

After an eternity of awkward stare-downs between Kageyama and the guard, the tension finally eased, and the mustache-clad guard receded.

“Permission granted,” he declared and nodded for the port guards to open the gates.

The large, wooden slab was heavy and thick, and the chains supporting it groaned deafeningly in protest. Miraculously the gate was lowered, and the duo stepped inside.

The city of Fukushima enveloped them in its warmth. Known as it was for its spectacular restaurants and bars, it had for a long time topped Shoyou’s list of must-visit places he could have previously only ever dreamed of seeing in person. He’d always born a deep-rooted fondness of food. Perhaps because he’d grown up moderately deprived of it for many years. After his father’s passing his mother was left all alone to tend to two loud, demanding children. One of which was, at the time, no more than two years old and a certified crybaby.

Standing there, beneath the shine of the winter sun, gazing at the snow adorned streets, he couldn’t quite find his breath.

“What do you wanna eat?” he asked, but when he turned he found that Kageyama was no where to be seen.

He spun on his heel and began searching frantically for the guy. It wasn’t easy for Kageyama to blend in with the crowd, as large as he was even in human form, so to see a mop of black hair stick up from the crowd of people was a delight. He sighed in relief and started trudging his way towards a Kageyama surrounded by a group of teenagers, most of which were, unsurprisingly, girls.

“Are ya from around here? Do ya have a girlfriend?” one of them asked, no older than fourteen he guessed.

The one next to her shoved her aside, hands clasped in front of her in an effort to accentuate her budding breasts. “Are ya hungry? I’ll make ya something! Ya seem really worn out!”

One of the few boys gaped up at Kageyama, one tooth missing and brows a pair of bushy caterpillars. “How tall are ya?” he gasped in awe.

He watched Kageyama’s cold expression morph into confusion and couldn’t keep himself from snickering quietly behind a closed fist. Now this was a delightful surprise, he thought.

He’d been about to interfere and save Kageyama the discomfort when the werewolf spoke up. All awkwardness vanished in a puff of air, his shoulders straightened, and a gentle, polite smile stretched across handsome features.

Shoyou gaped as he spoke.

“I’m really sorry but I’m afraid I must go. I appreciate your offers, really, but my companion must be looking for me,” he said, one hand gently brushing over the soft skin of one of the girls’ shoulders in quiet apology.

Their eyes, much like Shoyou’s, widened a fraction further at the poise in his speech, the practiced ease. The diplomacy etched into his veins.

Without so much as a single glance he wrung himself free of the gathering and started walking towards where Shoyou was standing, paralyzed. He passed without a word more than a grumbled “Get it moving, dumbass, we don’t have all day.”.

He snapped out of his trance and jogged up to Kageyama. His signature frown was back, and his shoulders had lost some of that perfect posture.

“What the _hell _was _that?_” He asked, tugging at Kageyama’s sleeve to get his attention. “Don’t you dare ignore me,” he added, “Not after I just witnessed whatever the fuck _that _was!”

What had just happened revealed a depth to Kageyama Shoyou hadn’t considered. What he’d just witnessed wasn’t simply a complete personality switch, no, what he’d just witnessed was years-worth of social interaction. Hours of practice in meeting people, meeting _strangers. _What he’d just witnessed was a Kageyama who’d clearly spent time before the forest out among people, living and communicating with them. Being an active part of their communities. There was no other explanation to what he’d just seen.

Kageyama sighed, though it came out more like a growl, and stopped to point at a sign above their heads. _‘Hitoka’s diner and pub’_ it read in swirly writing, the sign a molded piece of wood broken down by years of rain and pigeon shit.

“Let’s eat first,” he said and didn’t wait for Shoyou to follow.

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╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

_Don't ask my opinion._   
_Don't ask me to lie, then beg for forgiveness for making you cry._   
_‘Cause I’m only human, after all._

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

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A bowl of hot soup was placed before Shoyou, but he’d lost his appetite the moment he’d witnessed Kageyama tear into a slab of meat the size of his head with gusto. Shoyou dreaded the damage that would do to his wallet, but an instinctive part of him couldn’t bring himself to protest. Not when he glimpsed those blade-sharp canines, or when sauce dripped down Kageyama’s chin much like fresh blood would.

He gulped and swirled his spoon around in the thick soup before him distractedly. Kageyama still hadn’t explained anything, and he feared he’d ignore Shoyou again. That his questions would go unanswered. By the second the feeling of playing some side character in Kageyama’s quest grew larger and larger until he could barely think anymore.

A glance around the room and he found himself sucked into its ambience. He watched one of the waitresses, a young girl around Shoyou’s age, skip nervously around the wooden tables and the loud, sweaty patrons. Some were cat-calling her, others were demanding refills loudly, and some were simply too out of it to even keep their head on both shoulders. Her short, blond hair accentuated the roundest, cutest face he’d ever seen on a girl.

Shoyou honed in on one of the conversations unfolding between two city guards on break; their helmets set safely beside them as they tore into their dinner.

“Some newbie nightchaser apparently got loose from Miyagi a week ago,” said one of them, a short and stumpy man with an impressive scar over one side of his face.

“Really?” asked the other, skinny guard with the low ponytail and impressive bear-belly.

“Yeah. They say he’s travelin’ with a hound,” his partner said, lowering his voice.

“Ya can’t be serious.”

“I am. Guy’s got a price on his head. Capital sent word of it today. Heard it from captain.”

The barest of an _‘uhm’_ snapped him back to the beast before him. Kageyama had stopped eating—his plate so clean Shoyou considered checking to see his reflection in it—and was staring at Shoyou. Face unmoving.

“You done now? Am I interesting again?”

“I was hungry. Be glad none of the guards ended up on the plate.”

“Whatever, you brute.”

Heavy silence clogged the space between them with something thick and suffocating.

“What’s up with you? Why aren’t you eating? You’ll faint if you keep that up.”

It was perhaps the most Kageyama had said to him in days.

“What’s up with me?” he hissed, “You always ignore me,” he started counting, bringing each finger up as he listed his issues, “You’re perfectly capable of talking to me and yet you refuse to. You’re constantly grumpy and angry. You look as if you’re about to pounce on anyone we meet, and you’re clearly keeping something from me and yet you refuse to tell me what!”

He took a steadying breath before lowering his head and leaning in close, “And as cherry on top, I just overhead two of the guards. There’s a fucking price on my head!”

Kageyama stared at him, as cold as ever, but the scrunch of his brows meant he’d heard every word and hadn’t liked a single syllable out of Shoyou’s mouth. He steeled himself as best he could and tried not to seem too scared or nervous. Would Kageyama leave him again?

But to Shoyou’s surprise he didn’t storm out of the diner. Instead he leaned back and sighed, hand coming up to rub at his neck and brush long fingers through his hair.

“Fine. Listen, then,” he said before he continued, “I haven’t always been a what I am. I was turned when I was nineteen.” He was pointedly not looking at Shoyou, eyes set on the dining patrons around them, ears no doubt picking up every miniscule sound and whisper in the room.

“It also answers the question on my language skills. I was raised among humans,” he’d lowered his voice, and ducked his head closer, “And humans of the Capital at that.”

Shoyou wasn’t sure what to say. Everything he’d thought he knew about Kageyama had been… _a lie? A secret?_ Was what he was saying even the truth? If so, then…

“Did you kill any?”

“Hah?”

“Did you kill any nightchasers?” he stuttered out.

He could feel the burn of it before the clench in his throat. The way bubbly, unstoppable heartache tore its way through his chest and traveled up his lungs and throat like hot magma.

Flashes of Kageyama’s pants came to him in their silence. Images, vague, of the emblem sewn onto them. The shiny, blue emblem of something he couldn’t place then but could now.

“Your pants… they’re nightchaser uniform, aren’t they?” he asked, ice coating every word.

“Yes, but—”

“You killed one, didn’t you? Because you were scared? Because you were angry? All this time… all this time you’ve hated me for being a nightchaser, judged and labeled me for something I haven’t even done, when you yourself have gone around…” He stopped himself in favor of shaking his head in disbelief.

White pain pierced through his heart. Betrayal. That’s what it was.

_Ah, that’s it. _He thought as he stood to leave, Kageyama’s voice nothing but a hushed breeze behind him. He weaved his way through the crowd and out of the diner where he started running. Where to, he didn’t know. As far away from there as he could get was the aim. Far, far from Kageyama and everything he was.

Had he been wrong all along? About werewolves? About their humanity? When Shoyou stopped to think about it, his change of heart had at the core of it all been ignited by Kageyama. By the supposed tenderness, the morality he thought he’d glimpsed in those cold, blue irises.

For being someone who prided himself on his people-knowledge, Shoyou had severely missed the mark this time. He’d been traveling all along with someone—no, _something—_he hadn’t known in the least.

He should have known.

Had he been more attentive, had he questioned a little harder, had he looked twice at the emblem, then perhaps he’d have figured it out. It was right there, beneath his nose, all along.

_How stupid could you get?!_

Blurred shapes of houses and cobbled, snow-filled roads were the only things he could barely make out. He was running towards the gates, lungs heaving, burning organs on the brink of exploding where they worked at twice their normal rate in his chest.

Nothing mattered anymore. Had his entire journey been for nothing? For what did he leave his family? His mother? His Natsu? For what did he abandon his life, his goals and aspirations? His job? His home?

For empty claims and a ludicrous movement without a future, without hope. For creatures he had no connection to.

Hot tears fell down quivering cheeks and pooled right below his bottom lip, blue and bruised and just as shaky as the rest of him. He couldn’t see anything anymore, couldn’t hear the shout of a command ringing through the streets of Fukushima. Couldn’t fight the hands that grabbed him before it was too late.

Before his world was enveloped in complete darkness.

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The clanking of hooves on cobbled, snowed roads was the only sound.

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Inside, he heard nothing but the deafening shriek of absolute silence.

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He still couldn’t hear Kageyama’s feather-light footsteps.

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Was he all alone?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Any comments are greatly appreciated!
> 
> Thannk you for sticking out with me. I'm back on track baby. 
> 
> My boys are both idiots, what's new.  
I'd also like to clarify that Kageyama's textbook socializing has an explanation. Has anyone figured it out? Comment what you think! 
> 
> This story is slowly crawling to an end. Can't wait for it all to come together >:)
> 
> Until next time, stay safe and wash your damn hands and don't sneeze on people! ;)  
xoxo


	7. To Leave Lashes Upon your Skin

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigger warning for violence, torture and blood. Minor gore, if you will.

It reeked of raw meat in the back of the wagon where Shoyou sat with his hands and feet tied.

A wad of rough cloth had been shoved into his mouth, and his lips had cracked painfully where they stretched around it. Any noise he made came out muffled, and his senses stood on high alert. He mapped out every turn and bump in the road, every deceleration and every acceleration until they finally arrived at the stop.

Two men, both of which stank of sweat and alcohol, hoisted him out of the wagon—hands beneath his armpits. He stumbled and fell to the ground on his knees, incapable of using his legs beyond bending them. He whined into the cloth as sharp pain shot up his thighs from the impact.

The two men hauled him up on his feet and carried him over to a chair placed in the middle of the clearing just for him. They were, from what he could tell, in the middle of ass-fuck nowhere. He couldn’t see a house or a lair or a town anywhere nearby and judging by the oppressive silence around him neither was there one nearby. A group of imposing, iron-clad men with masks over their lips and black capes running down their backs stood in a circle around the chair Shoyou was forcefully shoved down on. He knew these men; what they stood for. They were nighthawks.

Nighthawks were somewhat of a ridicule among nightchasers. Instead of dagger and arrow they used muskets and traps to capture their prey—techniques they liked to call _modern _and _effective _to mask the blatant cowardice. Known among the people of Japan as hawks for not the way they killed werewolves, but people, and for the way they above the common folk of society sat perched on their throne looking for traitors. They were a new breed of assassins, raised and honed to perfection by the Crown under the Church of Honor since birth. Perfect, remorseless killing machines.

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_Kageyama was running on fumes. _

_Two weeks of restless hunting and running, desperately mapping out Hinata’s smell which was only growing weaker by each passing day. _

_As the forest around him whizzed by, and his breaths came in heavy and labored in his lungs, the growing panic of never seeing him again was the only thing keeping him on route to finding him. _

_He refused to give up._

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“You must be Hinata Shoyou,” asked a loud, scratchy voice.

From behind two guards in front of him stepped out into the clearing and before Shoyou a man dressed in the finest attire Shoyou had ever seen in his life. It didn’t, by any means, hide the man’s protruding belly, nor did it slim his disastrously swollen face, but it certainly did paint a horrifying picture.

Shoyou swore into his rag and tugged harshly on the ropes around his wrists.

“The names Mr. Mori Kenta, but you may call me maste,” he slurred his words and rose a pair of busy brows as he sneered down at a Shoyou who was fuming in his seat.

“I heard about your… rendezvous… with that friend of yours,” Mr. Mori continued, “I won’t lie, your escape was quite brilliantly planned. Fleeing like that right beneath the noses of some of Japan’s greatest chasers.” He snorted smugly, “May I ask, where is your friend?”

A clammy, stinky hand blocked his field of vision for a moment as the cloth in his mouth was forcefully yanked out.

He coughed and spit on the ground to regain his bearings. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he said, then swallowed—thinking back to blue eyes and the worst betrayal Shoyou had ever felt in his life.

He killed the lump threatening in his throat. “I’m traveling alone,” he said.

Mr. Mori, his pompous highness, frowned at him, but the frown was unfamiliar and stank of evil intent.

“Is that so,” he muttered, but it was anything but a question. “I see, so you’ve chosen the hard route,” he said and signaled for one of the nighthawks—gesture no more than the flick of a slender wrist and a snap of stumpy fingers.

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_Days bled into nights, and Kageyama was beginning to feel the fatigue constantly keeping his wolf form was causing him. He couldn’t just stop. Traveling by foot, especially chasing a wagon, would put between him and Hinata miles worth of time he could be using instead to get closer, to rescue him._

_To tell him the truth._

_To talk to him._

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In a matter of seconds, a hard, piercing sound echoed through the forest. He wasn’t registering it as it happened, could do no more than choke on his breath when the whip struck the taut flesh of his legs and ripped right through the fabric of his pants through the first layer of his pale skin. His blood sipped out slow and hot and burned against his tender flesh.

He bit down, hard, on his lower lip. Mr. Mori nodded to his hawk and the man struck once, twice more. Each whip sent a zap of fire coursing through his bones. He could hear the rough whip tear into his skin—could see the droplets of blood it spread over pearly-white snow. He felt like throwing up.

Shoyou screamed into the evening, head raised to the heavens so as not to cry, and watched in bafflement, for a second, as the clouds above revealed the outlines of a full moon.

It couldn’t be. How long had he been unconscious? How far from his goal was he? _Where _was he? Was he even in Japan?

“Will you be speaking, or do I have to have your legs slowly but surely cut off by this whip?” asked Mr. Mori, his face splitting into a cold, heartless smile.

Shoyou shuddered in his seat, in too much pain to even register the dropping temperature.

“Maybe if I strike that slender back of yours, you’ll rethink? Hm?” pressed the bastard, hands tied innocently behind his fat stomach. Shoyou distantly wondered whether they even reached each other.

“I… told you…” he gasped, “I’m traveling… alone… you bastard!”

He yanked hard on the restraints, toppling over in his chair with the force of it, but realized to late what a mistake that’d been. In his peripheral he only managed to make out the vague shape of a steeled boot-toe before it collided with his face and sent his head flying to the side.

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_There were so many things left unsaid, so many memories not yet shared, so many feelings only having begun to blossom. He couldn’t leave him to die at the hands of whatever monster had taken him._

_Judging by what Hinata had said at the diner, he could only assume it had something to do with Nighthawks. Probably hired by some fancy dude in a cashmere suit who thought of himself as above all else and would exploit Hinata in order to get to him._

_Him, of course. It was him. He was the problem._

_Again and always._

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Stars danced before his eyes. The hawk had deliberately kept the kick just below so intense it would knock him out, but hard enough that it had blood running down his nose and over his cracked lip. His face throbbed and he could feel tears gathering at the corners of his eyes.

He heard Mr. Mori sigh in disapproval above him.

“Can’t have you disobeying like that, no... Boys! Tie him to the tree!”

In the haze of his mind he noted two arms lifting him and could vaguely note the shape of a large tree slowly inching closer. Everything was blurred, every noise sounded distant, and the ringing in his ears was unbearable.

A howl pierced the crispy night, loud and angry, and Shoyou giggled quietly to himself at the thought that he might, after all, end up getting fed to a starved werewolf instead.

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_He’d found him._

_He could smell him._

_Way, over there, in the thick of the forest._

_Blood._

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He pondered for a moment which option sounded better but didn’t get very far. From the bushes beyond his line of sight, but just close enough that he could make out its black, lumbering shape, dashed out the largest creature to ever walk the forests of Japan.

It loomed high over them, in line with the treetops, and as it came closer Shoyou noted that its front fangs were the size of Shoyou’s entire back. It growled at them, low and bitter and thick with threat, and Shoyou watched the two guards holding him up let go and scamper away.

The hawks were all stood in place, paralyzed. Some came forward to protect Mr. Mori—others readied their muskets.

Shoyou, without his support, fell face first to the ground right in front of the creature of hell, but to his surprise it didn’t pounce on him. Instead, it lowered its head enough so Shoyou could look into his bright blue eyes.

Understanding flashed beneath those icy surfaces, and something like regret, and an awful lot of protectiveness, before Kageyama cried out in pain. A bullet wound dribbled dark blood down Kageyama’s left leg.

Shoyou watched him bare his fangs, and then the rest was history.

He couldn’t hear or see much, but he could some. He could hear the tear of flesh, the screams of horror, the breaking of bones. Muskets fired left and right, nighthawks scampering away with their tails between their legs, and to Shoyou’s delight the sweet music of a fat aristocrat crying for his mother filled his ears and rose his spirit for just a moment, just a second, before his world was doused in darkness, and Shoyou fell into the sweet nothing of sleep.

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He awoke in periods to a gentle lull, left to right, and the warmth of soft, soft fur beneath his good cheek.

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╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

_Some people got real problems,_   
_Some people are out of luck._   
_Some people think I can solve them,_   
_Lord heavens above._

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

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It was the sound of iron gates closing, groaning against the rust and wear, that snapped him out of his slumber. He woke with a start in cold sweat and frantically searched his surroundings.

For what? A clue, maybe. A clue to what?

_“—nata…”_

His surroundings? Yes, his surroundings. And where was Mr. Mori? The whip…

“Hinata!”

Next to him, on the prison cell floor, sat a severely battered and bruised Kageyama.

_Kageyama… he came…_

“Jesus Christ, thank God you’re awake!” Kageyama was reaching for him, patting down his face and feeling for his temperature, “I managed to get you in the nick of time. Christ, Hinata, what would have happened to you if I’d been even a second too late—”

Shoyou wasn’t listening anymore, he was far too preoccupied with wrapping his shaky arms around his neck and burrowing his nose into his bloody, bruised and dirty skin as deep as it would go, so that he could imprint his smell into his senses for all eternity, and never forget the feel of his skin against his.

His nose throbbed, his face throbbed, he was warm and clammy and shivering all at once, and he couldn’t feel his legs, but he was ok. Kageyama was there. Kageyama had saved him. Kageyama cared.

“How could I ever have doubted you…” he whispered to his skin.

Kageyama’s hands rose gingerly to trace the dip of his spine and the bumps of where it nearly pierced the thin skin.

“You’ve lost weight,” he whispered in reply, face pressed so close to Shoyou’s ear that he could hear his every labored breath.

He broke their contact just a fraction to look at him.

Kageyama was sporting the nastiest bruise across one half of his face, from his temple to his jaw. There was blood dripping down his forehead; from the wounds at his side that he’d haphazardly dressed in a dirty bandage; inky black liquid spread against the crème surface and ran down his side over a black and blue thigh and what looked like even more bloody wounds. His left arm was barely moving—doing nothing more than twitching helplessly against the strain.

“You look like shit,” he sobbed and for once let his tears fall down a still sore, bruised cheek. The salty droplet ran down to his broken lip and the stinging made him want to cry even harder.

Kageyama rose his healthy hand to brush away Shoyou’s bangs. For once in all the time Shoyou had known him Kageyama wasn’t frowning; he was smiling back gently at him. Dark, dark eyebags decorated his otherwise gorgeously tanned skin that was now pale and battered and lacked the life and strength Shoyou associated with Kageyama.

“Don’t mind me, you’re way worse off,” he muttered, but whatever he’d been trying for broke in favor of the sob that tore through Kageyama’s throat and made his always so firm voice crack at the end of his sentence. It tore to shreds Shoyou’s already wilted heart.

“Don’t c-cry, Bakayama!” he sniffed and aggressively rubbed his nose with the back of his sleeve. “I can’t believe you saved my life, you big doofus! What were you thinking?!”

He was angry now, pounding weakly on Kageyama’s naked chest. He was glad the idiot had at least had the decency to not disregard clothing entirely. The blue emblem of a foreign nightchaser squad shone back at him from the hip at Kageyama’s pants.

“I think it’s time you listen to _me _for a change,” Kageyama said, noting where Shoyou’s eyes had fallen.

The light inside the cell was a flickering, warm hue coming from the few torches poised on the walls outside their cell. If Shoyou tried he could hear the sound of boots on stone and the anxious noise of keys jingling.

The space around them was cramped and dungy. It stank of mold and decay and was probably infested with rats and cockroaches. Cold and unforgiving, a death in darkness surrounded by the lowest lifeforms on earth.

Shoyou was glad he had Kageyama there to share it with, at least. As selfish as that may be.

Shoyou winced when he moved his leg, and the torn muscles there protested by burning flames up his spine. Kageyama maneuvered him weakly to lean against the wall, and after having made sure that he wasn’t dying leaned back against it himself, so close to Shoyou that he could feel the heat of his body radiating off him.

It was comforting and familiar like nothing else.

“I was a prince,” Kageyama said to the silence around them. The drip of a leak somewhere in the dungeon the only company to his words.

Shoyou breathed in slow. _Of course. It all made sense. Of course he was._

“You mean, like, _the _prince?” he asked, quietly so as not to raise suspicion.

Kageyama nodded. “Mh.”

“So, you mean to tell me I’ve been traveling with royalty all this time?”

“Yup.”

“And the nightchaser uniform?”

“It was mine.”

How naïve he’d been, jumping to conclusions, when it was so glaringly obvious. Or maybe it was not. When he thought back to the way Kageyama had torn into the slab of meat he wasn’t exactly envisioning royalty.

Still, despite the million questions whizzing in his mind, he couldn’t voice a single one, and the silence between them stretched on. Shoyou listened for a moment to the slow rise and fall of Kageyama’s battered lungs, to the way they shakily exhaled every time.

Had he broken a rib?

“I was good at it too. Chasing. The most vicious in my squad. I’d killed at least a dozen by the time I had graduated. Of course, illegally, but who was gonna be _that guy _to question the goddamn prince, right?” Kageyama chuckled quietly, and Shoyou thrived in the sound of it—closed his eyes and imagined he wasn’t hearing someone’s final words but a friend retelling his story.

“But then my father was killed, brutally, by one. It was like a punch to the face. He’d been the only one who’d every cared about me, _truly _cared. All mother ever did was rule and rule and talk about ruling. I felt alienated from her my entire childhood. But dad…” his voice caught on something thick and painful, and Shoyou felt a tear run down his cheek, too, “Dad cared.”

He could hear the stutter in Kageyama’s lungs as he hitched for breath. Shoyou patted around between them until he latched onto a welcoming palm, hot and dry against his clammy and cold one. His hand was so big and enveloped his so easily. They fit like pieces in a puzzle.

His warmth to Shoyou’s cold.

“When we lost him… things only god worse. Shoyou, you have no idea how much pressure they put on me daily.” He sounded desperate as he clenched Shoyou’s hand still cozied in his palm.

Shoyou ignored the warmth that coursed through his veins from hearing his first name stutter past the lips of none other than Kageyama. His Kageyama.

_His Tobio?_

“I thought it would kill me, or I would kill her, if I didn’t do _something. _So I killed, Shoyou, I killed, but not humans, no, never. I killed werewolves. Dozens of them. One per night for months. I refused to come home without having at least one more fang to my name hanging around my neck. I thought if I tried hard enough, she would stop. Her words would turn sweet and comforting and cease to hurt, and her hands would hold me gently rather than push me away, but she refused to love me no matter what I did.”

Shoyou thought back to his home by the forest. To their grassy roof and always fuming chimney. To his mother’s warm embrace and his sister’s insistent little grabby hands as she tried to tickle and tackle him into the ground. To meals not worth many pennies, but worth every ounce of love poured into them.

Kageyama looked up at the ceiling, and the moss and disgust growing there, and Shoyou turned to watch the upturn of that perfect profile he’d been admiring so many times.

“And then, one day, my hubris got to me. I was hunting, by myself,” he swallowed and closed his eyes tight. Shoyou wanted to erase the crease deepening between his brows so bad, but he sat still and let his hand get crushed instead by a much bigger, much shakier one.

“When out of the blue this werewolf, so big and dark, jumped me from the shadows,” he took a steadying breath and Shoyou watched as tears ran down his cheeks, “And in a matter of seconds he’d torn into my flesh like it was nothing. I had no time to react. All I did was lie there and wish for it to be over, but it wasn’t. I woke up to nothing, Shoyou. It hadn’t killed me, just turned me and left me there to rot into myself”

The way he said his name, like it pained him above all else to revisit these memories, was what cracked the fragile layer of Shoyou’s last composure. He leapt forward with the bit of his strength remaining and straddled a pair of firm thigs in a matter of seconds. Kageyama’s eyes widened in shock and confusion, and that pretty mouth morphed his face into the look of pure bewilderment as Shoyou dove in for the prize.

He didn’t want to think about the pain Kageyama—_Tobio—_had to endure. About the noises he had been forced to listen to of his bones and muscles breaking. How powerless and lonely he must have felt in what he thought were his last seconds, because despite all the might and fear and authority he held, nothing in this world could buy a mother’s love. Nothing could buy him the happiness, the kinship he desired.

So, he let his lips speak his apology for him. Both for leaving him, too, and for the things he’d endured in his previous life. For the torture he’d been put through. For the problems Shoyou had caused him now, too.

They melded together so perfectly, so effortlessly. Shoyou could taste iron and nothing else from where their lips were connected in the most tender kiss he’d ever live to experience. His prince, but without his shiny white horse, had saved not only his body but his mind and soul and aspirations, too. Without him, Shoyou would be lying in a ditch somewhere. Bloody and dead and alone. Having done nothing.

Every piece of him was jumping with delight. His skin sizzled with the emotions bubbling to its surface. It traced pleasant tingles up his arms and legs and made him shiver, for once, in all the best ways. He wanted him closer, closer. So much closer. So he tugged on his shoulders and pressed their chests to each other, tilted his head to lavish love upon his tongue, too, and wrung dirty fingers in the silky waterfall of his pitch-black hair.

Tobio returned the favor in kind by wrapping strong arms around him and pressing him into his skin so hard Shoyou had half the mind to worry about his lungs, but the worry quickly diminished into nothing but bliss as big palms ran up and down his back and clawed down the sensitive skin there as if to say _“Only I may leave lashes upon your back”_, and Shoyou preened in every second, ever moment, every drag of it.

He broke them apart far enough so he could speak and breathe, but not far enough so that their chests wouldn’t touch, or their noses wouldn’t breathe the same air.

“Don’t die, Tobio,” he whispered, voice a cracked mess of emotions. Kageyama kissed away the tears that fell down his cheeks. “Don’t leave me, Tobio.”

“I won’t, but if you run out on me ever again I’ll hunt you down and tie you to a tree and never let you go, you dumbass,” he growled into Shoyou’s neck, but the threat was lost in translation. Tobio’s every word was dipped in so much love it made Shoyou’s chest ache so bitterly.

“Do you know where we are?” he asked.

“No clue, but I’m guessing the capital.”

“How do you know?”

“I recognize this dungeon’s construction. We had something similar at the castle where I lived. I used to run around down there, looking for a fight and teasing the fat guards on prisoner duty,” he laughed airily, and his breath tickled Shoyou’s skin softly.

“Look at me,” he said and nudged Tobio’s head back against the wall, where he could cup his cheeks and stare into his eyes. “From this day, until my last, I want nothing but the truth from you. I’m tired of secrets and lies and gruffs and huffs for replies. Talk to me, Tobio. Let me in. Let me hold you like you hold me. Let me protect a piece of you the way you protect all of me.”

Those blue eyes glossed over, and the warm light from outside made the glassy blues of them sparkle in the dim light much like the same night sky he was a victim of.

He nodded, weakly, and melted into Shoyou’s touch. A big, warm palm enveloped his where it was pressed against Tobio’s bruised cheek.

“Only if you promise you’ll stay by my side,” he whispered.

Shoyou bumped their noses together. “Until my very last breath.”

“Good,” he mumbled, and places butterfly kisses along the bridge of his nose, the apples of his cheeks, and right over his eyelids. They fluttered in response.

“But I bet you’ll find a way to stubbornly misinterpret something I say again,” he spoke to Shoyou’s forehead, who bristled in response.

“Wha—says the socially incompetent idiot who had me thinking I was traveling with a murderer!”

He flicked his forehead in retaliation and watched as it creased with Tobio’s sprouting frown. How he’d missed that frown of his.

“Not my fault you jump to conclusions almost as easily as you jump on my back every day. By the way, I’m not a pony, just so you know. I was not made for being ridden.”

Shoyou saw his opportunity and ceased it with a devious smirk. “You sure you weren’t meant to be ridden, Tobio-chan?” he whispered, and watched in amazement the ever stoic Kageyama Tobio splutter and blush in response, rosy as a garden from head to toe.

“Idiot,” he muttered to Shoyou’s laughing face.

_(But if Shoyou’s eyed had been open he would have noticed the way his words held no malice, and the way he smiled longingly at him.)_

Their moment was abruptly cut off by a heavy guard stomping his way down the corridor and halting abruptly outside the iron bars of their cell. He eyed in distaste their position but said nothing about it. Instead, he pulled the large key from the chain by his hip and unlocked their cell.

Standing by it, he spoke, “The queen, her majesty, has summoned you.”

And like that, hand in hand, they walked out to meet their doom.

Smiling all the way.

⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅∙∘☽༓☾∘∙•⋅⋅⋅•⋅⋅⊰⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅⋅•⋅

╔═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╗

_'Cause I'm no prophet or messiah,_   
_you should go looking somewhere higher._

╚═══*.·:·.☽✧ ✦ ✧☾.·:·.*═══╝

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow? We're coming close to an end.  
If people are interested, I'll probably write a continuation--a sequel or part two--or this story since there's a lot more here with the potential to unpack. 
> 
> I can't believe we're almost at the end of the road. Who would have thought I'd actually manage to finish something? Wow. 
> 
> Anyways, excuse my poor attempts at writing tension and action I'm trying my hardest.  
Who called Kageyama being royalty? Was it glaringly obvious or were you surprised?
> 
> Thank you for commenting and leaving kudos.  
They mean a lot to us attention-starved writers.
> 
> See you in the finale!  
xoxo

**Author's Note:**

> "Strychnine produces some of the most dramatic and painful symptoms of any known toxic reaction. Death by strychnine ingestion is inhumane. Early signs consist of apprehension, nervousness, rapid breathing, drooling, tenseness, and stiffness. Vomiting is possible but uncommon."
> 
> according to www.wolfmatters.org this is an actual toxin! It was slightly enhanced, perhaps, in my fic to better fit the story but remained otherwise the same.


End file.
